


(Yūri!!! on) Hogwarts : A (Drunk) History

by bonehandledknife (ladywinter)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Crack, Drunk History - Freeform, Gen, Happy Ending, Hogwarts AU, Humor, IT'S A DRUNK HISTORY OKAY I'M JUST GOING WITH IT, M/M, This is lunacy, except when they're not, gryffindor viktor, high grade., hufflepuff viktor, idk angst just slips in sometimes, slytherin yuuri, sometimes not crack, sorry salazar, the author is apparently the devil, there's plot ARE YOU HAPPY NOW, your faves are ace and genderqueer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-09-27 11:19:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10017635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywinter/pseuds/bonehandledknife
Summary: So moonbelowsea asked me late one night how I would write Gryffindor!Viktor and Slytherin!Yuuri and I babbled about it then crashed near the ass of dawn. The next day I realized that it was kinda almost a history.A Drunk History.Let's go with that.—"... the other boy covers his red face with his hands and Viktor's heart just about bursts with the need to own puppies with him."





	1. Meandering up to Fire Goblets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonbelowsea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonbelowsea/gifts).



Ok so. Y’gotta first understand Viktor, Heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Nikiforov.

Well, it’s not exactly ‘Nikiforov’ but it’s an open secret to everyone in the Magical World that you just don’t say you’re related to the ‘missing’ Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna if you have any sense or will to live.

The point is, the boy’s loaded. LOADED. As in, his family takes him out to Muggle Moscow for shits and giggles and indulges themselves in the muggle arts and dance and sports, despite needing special portkeys and protections.

Oh what’s that, the boy asks, and his parents go Ice Skating, and you know they let him try it once that night and then they go back to their heavily warded home in the ass of nowhere but Viktor is Not Done Skating yet. He’s five and goddammit he wants him an ice rink and so the next morning there’s an ice rink in the ballroom.

The floor doesn’t recover.

Viktor, sweetheart, candy of my holidays, apple of my fruit basket, _we need a ballroom._

No you don’t!

Well, so the house elves have problems with the ice, see. Because Viktor’s magic is a stubborn shit too. And basically what can you do with Accidental Magic right?

Get a tutor. And maybe a distraction.

So in comes Yakov Feltsman who is grumpy and full of yells but he introduces Viktor to a broom and, hey. _Flying._ FLYING, amirite? Because Viktor is Little and so can’t do the Cool Jumps he saw people do when they were hanging around Moscow some random Important Skating Competition Night. They moved so fast! They looked so pretty! Like they were FLYING.

Well. Ok. So maybe Yakov should be blamed when they found Viktor floating near the roof of his bedroom that next morning except Viktor’s parents just sigh and tie a rope to Viktor’s waist and hauls him throught the Floo.

They consult the best charms specialist in Europe.

“Oh my,” says Flitwick.

“WOW.” Says Viktor, because this place is GREAT. And then its like, okay, clearly Yakov needs help and also time to get some sleep because wow balding quickly there, here’s some hairgro good sir, so they sign Viktor up for tutoring sessions.

Except it’s like, Dumbledore and his eyes twinkle because HERE IS A KID TO SHOW THE WONDERS OF MAGIC TO and is all like, I will not let my tea be desecrated by jam, but HOW ABOUT A SORTING HAT.

And the Sorting Hat’s all, this fetus is too young for me to get a read on him. He sings his song and Viktor claps and says, SING IT AGAIN!

This happens three more times before the Sorting Hat just says, _what’s your favorite color, kid?_

And Viktor says Gold.

 _So it may as well be—_ “GRYFFINDOR!”

Flitwick is sad. (He will be less sad in three days once he realizes how much of a handful Viktor is, but shhhh, let him have his Tragedy.)

Anyway, for the next couple years it’s lessons on meditation and control and Viktor gets control of the flying, and then becomes kinda famous for his flying dances and gets called the Lilac Fairy and somewhere in the world a little not-really-half-blood Japanese boy completely loses his shit in slo mo. (It’s epic.)

Hogwarts… well, kinda doesn’t care. I mean the castle itself kinda doesn’t care because it’s mostly a bunch of sentient rock that thinks this one kid is weird and smaller than the other kids.

But the students? Nah.

See, Viktor got really well known around maybe age 10 once he really figured out how to dance and fly at the same time, but it’s really hard to respect a kid that leaves pumpkin juice on his autographs, and gets food on his face when he eats, and once charmed an endless pit up his nose just to see how many peas he could fit up there.

(alot)

The same kid who argued vehemently that the puppy he’d smuggled into Hogwarts and charmed to fly should be counted as an owl.

“It’s a _poodle_.”

“Yes, and he fetches my mail! How is Makkachin any different from an owl then?”

_“A Poodle.”_

“Don’t listen to them Makka! They’re just being mean! You can be an owl if you want to!”

So yeah. Where was I. (#takes a drink)

OKAY. So see. Thing is? He’s in Harry Potter’s year. And he knows that Harry is probably the only kid more famous than he is and Viktor’s excited to meet him and shake his hand as a peer, y’know? It’d be great!

But Viktor’s been hanging around Hogwarts for years and has already been sorted so he’s sitting at the Gryffindor table already, in a perfect spot to observe the new students, and… wow, Potter’s kinda an asshole isn’t he? Like he’s ignoring all his fans, ignoring everyone staring at him wanting to shake his hand or even just get a wave hi and he’s only talking to maybe two people and that one blond looks about to blow a fuse and Potter looks at Viktor like he’s just weird, and then eats like the house will fall on him if he doesn’t. Wow. He’s getting crumbs all over himself.

Does Viktor look like that? That’s Terrible. Viktor promises himself to shape up and be a Model Celebrity because he sees all the tiny crushed looks of his yearmates and that’s So Not On. He Must Fix This.

He’s kinda glad at this point that Hogwarts doesn’t know what to do with him. He’s part of Harry’s year but he doesn’t have to share rooms with them. Viktor has a room with a door to his yearmates (because he’d had a room all the past years he’d been studying with Flitwick for the occasional lesson that required moonlight and thus an overnight stay) and now the rooms are joined together. He’s supposed to use the door to the Gryffindor dorms to get to know everyone, but he honestly kind of doesn’t want to and the elf’s entrance is easier because it leads to the hallway directly next to the Great Hall.

Meanwhile, let’s be real, Harry Potter is an oblivious little shit. He has reason to be because: Dursleys. But he doesn’t really have the greatest powers of observation. Also, he’s a little kid, poorly socialized. He totally thinks Viktor is a year above him. And that one door to the dorm room that never opens? It leads to _outside_ their tower, but no one questions it because Magic. Like, to go into the tower you use the door opposite, if That One Door opens, it is probably a 10 stories drop straight down right to the courtyard. Very Winchester House. (Well, if it was a muggle door.)

And see, Viktor’s tested out of most first year classes by now, he sits in second year classes except for charms where he’s sitting for his OWL. They never meet in class. Sometimes Viktor frowns at Harry wishing he was Better. Sometimes Harry thinks he’s gonna get jumped by that frowny rich upperclassman.

Snape is Very Tired of their local Celebrities. Viktor just laughs in his face while encouraging him to have tea with Yakov and Harry looks just like James Fucking Potter and seems to have enough sass to create billows in his robes. Snape does not see the irony in mentally complaining about this.

 

BUT WAIT FOR SECOND YEAR. Because Yuuri.

See Yuuri’s dad is a squib and Yuuri’s mom is a muggle kinda faced some flak for marrying him and Japanese Magical Communities are just as hierarchical as their Muggle ones and here’s the thing, Viktor’s really famous. Recordings of him have gotten to magical communities all around the world. Yuuri’s Seen Them. So when his parents bring up schooling, he’s like, I want to go to the same school as Viktor. And they're like, okay maybe there'd be less blood purists.

So SECOND YEAR, in comes this tiny Japanese kid who has a tiny serious face, and he’s getting fucking swallowed up by the Sorting Hat all, What House Will Fit U I WONDER.

And meanwhile Yuuri’s mentally like !!!!! VIKTOR’S HERE OMG. I CAN’T. WOW. JUST. OMG.

And Sorting Hat be like, _...hello?_

And Yuuri thinks, I WANT TO BE AS COOL AS HIM I WANTED TO COME TO HOGWARTS FOR HIM HE’S SOOO—

And Sorting Hat is like, _so...Gryffindor?_

WHAT NO. NOT GRYFFINDOR I CAN’T. OMG WILL I SLEEP IN THE SAME TOWER AS HIM I CANT. WAT. _NO._

And then out comes this weird jumble of images that the Sorting Hat’s all, _shit son._ Because Ambition, Yuuri has it, in his deep quiet heart of hearts where he juST WANTS TO YANK VIKTOR DOWN TO HIS LEVEL BY HIS FUCKING TIE.

_Well._

“SLYTHERIN!”

And everybody does this little gasp? Because as far as rumor has it, he’s a half-blood so close to being a muggleborn there's not any difference in some eyes, and Yuuri is just tired of arguing, and almost all of the Gryffindors are giving him the usual anti-slytherin stinkeye and the rest are all whispering because he just looks like this tiny mousy kid how he hell did he sort Slytherin.

And Yuuri hears the whispering and, like, puts on his Game Face.

And Slytherin House be like, _Whoa._

Yuuri all walks to the table head high and shoulders back like a fucking dancer ought to because it’s not like Minako isn’t hanging around being an Awesome Aunt. And Malfoy trying to give him shit and Yuuri just looks at him like, ‘Do I Know You?’

Because, y’know, he doesn’t. Also he took his glasses off to clean them so he was pretty much blind.

 _Buuuuuurn,_ whispers the Prefects. _Not bad, kid._

And they decide that he’s One To Watch. Which was a pretty good idea because once they get back to their House, the kid speedwalks off. One of the Prefects peel off to follow him and.

Oh dear.

They find the kid hyperventilating in a corner of the bathroom and freaking out and insisting that the school hates him and he doesn’t deserve to be here. AND THAT’S A LOAD OF SHIT BECAUSE DUDE JUST GAVE MALFOY A SMACKDOWN AND Well, so there’s an emergency prefect meeting with pumpkin juice and cookies and tissues and they pretty much all applaud his Game Face and tell him they got his back and they look at each other like Smol Son Must Be Protected.

Smol Son (who is so stupidly grateful that he somehow makes friends with the house elves and convinces them to try to make his mother’s katsudon for his new housemates) MUST BE PROTECTED, WHAT DO YOU CALL THIS AGAIN? KATSUDON? _The Gryffindors must never know._ House secret.

Which got a little Tricky during that whole Heir of Slytherin business, but the House had rotating guards anyways because Gryffindors Are Assholes, and all of theirs were protected.

As far as Draco Malfoy is concerned, Yuuri Doesn’t Exist and Must Not Be Acknowledged. Because that’s the greatest snub a Malfoy can give.

Yuuri thinks Draco is super polite for ignoring how Yuuri totally fails at being a Slytherin. Yuuri thinks Harry Potter seems kinda normal for all that he’s heard.

Yuuri thinks Viktor is OMFGHOWISHESOPRETTY FUCK HIDE, _HIDE,_ HE’S TURNING OUR WAY

Y’know, the usual.

Except Yuuri still shadows Viktor’s steps where he could. Viktor looks so cool dueling, ah!

And Yuuri’s kinda terrible at it, he just dives out of the way and mentally freezes up and forgets every single spell he knows.

It’s pretty awful. He hides under the table alot. His housemates drag him out and make him drill with them anyway, _don’t you know there’s something in Hogwarts? We think they might be eating mu—, um, but you’re a half-blood right? Right??_ They say, and look at him all worried.

The taller ones try to hide him behind their robes. Some of the older girls hug him like they’re trying to make themselves feel better, and that makes the hugs easier on Yuuri.

He learns to look at tall redheaded Gryffindors with suspicion. He learns that whispers will always happen if Slytherins are in the halls. He learns never to be alone.

“It’s okay, close ranks, protect each other: we’re all we have.”

He learns to be afraid of Harry Potter.

“It’s okay Yuuri, we won’t let him or his monster eat you!” And they ply him with tea and cookies after he’s had to present in charms class and nearly came out of it blue because he didn’t breathe right for almost a solid 15 minutes. “You were great out there, you looked good!”

He hopes so, but he feels super small.

 

Viktor’s busy his second year. (Or is it his third? Most of his classes are with the third years. He doesn’t know what year to call himself anymore and Hogwarts herself must find it weird too because there’s three doors to his room now, the elfdoor, and one door each to Gryffindor second year and third year. He never uses the latter two.) He’d decided to take Muggle Studies and Divination and Arithmancy, as electives, since he dropped DADA because the teacher looked uninteresting. He’s not even sure what his name was.  

But then Viktor got almost immediately peeved at the fact that Muggle Studies DIDN’T MENTION ICE SKATING AT ALL WHAT THE HELL. He applies for and gets leave to go on research trips and then present at the end of term. A Research Paper for Muggle Studies and a Presentation for Divination, because he’s going to integrate prophetic dervish spinning into a new dance in flight. He’s Super Excited!

So he kind of missed the whole Basilisk thing.

Also he kinda needs to retake Arithmancy. Oops.

 

BUT EVERYONE SURVIVES YAY. Harry Potter saves everything, but also may or may not kill things and, y’know, WATCH YER BACKS SLYTHERINS. It’s awkward. Yuuri mentions it a little to Mari but she says there’s cliques everywhere.

Alright, says Yuuri. And goes back to trying to figure out how Viktor manages to fly, broomless.

Viktor continues performing, to wild accolade.

 

Third year finds Viktor taking just Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. He forgot his favorite quill somewhere so he’s backtracking and he sees a small Slytherin in the empty Runes classroom. He’s at where Viktor was sitting the previous class, and his fingers seem to lightly trace where Viktor pressed hard enough to leave the faintest of impressions on the desk. Or at least, they’re in the patterns that Viktor remembers practicing, he’s too far away to see.

And then the Slytherin clenches his hand and tries to trace the shape in the air. Once with just a finger, again with his whole hand, and then suddenly with his arm and his body follows like he was _dancing the shape-meaning of the rune._

 _Ansuz_ : Air, Divine Breath, Luck, Inspiration.

“Who are you?” Viktor breathes.

And the Slytherin squeaks and whips around and just about brains themself on a desk, falling over.

Viktor races in, “Are you okay?”

The boy stares at him.

“I saw you tracing my writing, where I sat,” And Viktor points at his desk and the other boy covers his red face with his hands and Viktor's heart just about bursts with the need to own puppies with him. “You move like you’re a fan.”

“I’m sorry!” the Slytherin holds his hands up and backs away, “I’m sorry it’s weird I know! I—”

“I meant... like you watch me—”

“AAH, I DIDN’T MEAN TO,” he backs away more.

“It’s okay I—”

But the other boy had already ran from the room.

HE DIDN’T EVEN GET HIS NAME, Viktor mentally wails. HE BECOMES VERY STRESSED OUT OKAY. HE’S NEVER FELT THE NEED TO JOINTLY OWN PUPPIES BEFORE. He clutches Makkachin.

 

It’s a very trying time.

For Hogwarts I mean.

“Gryffindors are such assholes, how do you not even bother to learn _our names...”_

“Please just tell me!” Viktor yells, but they slam the painting in his face.

“Psst Bloody Baron, Sir, do you know of a dark-haired Slytherin, yay-high, eyes like wine that costs at least a Firebolt?”

“Sir Nick, come on, you _have_ to have seen him, do you know where he is?”

“Professor Trelawney, can I drink tea with you?”

“Professor Flitwick, Professor Flitwick!!” (Flitwick was interested and amused for the _first three hours_ to be honest, but that Viktor sure does go on…)

“Professor McGonagall, can I have a moment?”

And McGonagall’s like, shit son. Can’t you have picked a cat person.

Viktor leans his chin on his dog and sighs. Makkachin flutters his ears and starts floating and Viktor hugs him tighter.

McGonagall throws back her tea after subtly spiking it, the wandless spell taught to her when she was a wee little witch with nothing else to keep her warm but scotch and salt. It comes in handy.

When the Fat Lady’s been attacked by Sirius Black, and everyone’s camped out in the Great Hall, after Dumbledore’s made sure Harry’s been safely nestled against a wall to the side, he can’t help but look around to check on the status of Hogwarts Ongoing Entertainment. His eyes twinkle as he watches the bed rolls scootch around like inchworms. That Nikiforov boy is trying to wiggle his way closer to the Slytherin pallets, and the Slytherins were all maneuvering to block his way. (That must be an excellent core workout!) Dumbledore is not sure whether the Slytherins were doing it consciously even, or even if the ones who were awake were doing it out of protectiveness versus spite. He sees Draco Malfoy kick out viciously, as Nikiforov tries to inch past, but he’s almost entirely certain that one’s asleep.

During the ill-fated quiddith match, Viktor jumps three rows of seats when he sees the boy swoon when the dementors come, but the Slytherins rise up around its fallen member and shove Viktor over the side of the stands. He finds himself very glad that he could fly.

“Professor Lupin!” Viktor slumps into his office next Hogsmeade weekend, and falls dramatically into a chair, “Did you know my name means ‘Winner’? And my last name is ‘Winner’? I’m supposed to be doubly Victorious and I can’t even find a name!” He wails, “It’s like everyone’s hiding him from me!”

And Remus mentally sighs but piles Viktor with chocolate and condolences and says that a name doesn’t mean anything and Viktor’s like but aren’t you a werewolf ‘Remus Lupin’, that’s pretty much ‘Wolf McWerewolf’ isn’t it? And Remus startles, and Viktor sticks chocolate into his tea because fuck everything there is no jam, and Remus doesn’t know what horrifies him more.

_“You just put chocolate into your tea.”_

“I can never own puppies again,” cries Viktor. “Do they disbelieve my intentions? _Is that it?”_

“What,” Remus tries to keep on track, “What… ARE your intentions? I don’t think you ever said them out-loud.”

“Oh.” Viktor sits up. “You’re RIGHT.”

The Great Hall is mostly empty during Hogsmeade weekend except for 7th years studying and the wee firsties and seconds. Viktor’s been sneaking into town for years and doesn’t much care for the weekend trip because he has Important Things to do. Even the ambient lunchtime buzz goes silent as he sends Makkachin flying over to the Slytherin House Table with a bouquet of blue roses and a gigantic sign. The poodle floats in front of the Slytherin boy like 90 lbs of dog really shouldn’t.

CAN YOU IMAGINE YOURSELF OWNING A POODLE? Y/N

The boy bursts into tears.

Makkachin flees, narrowly missing being hexed by half the Slytherins.

“What happened!” Viktor frantically checks Makka over then glances at the other table and they’re basically a wall around the small boy.

The Slytherin Prefect comes stomping over and holds a wand to Viktor’s nose. “HOW DID YOU KNOW ABOUT VICCHAN.”

“Huh?”

“YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE TO BRING THAT UP.”

“Bring... ?? I just asked if he could own a dog?” _with me,_ goes quietly unsaid.

“OF COURSE HE **_DID_**.” And then the Prefect hexes his hair and the long tail of it fluttered to the ground and Viktor can’t breathe because it’s no more than he deserved. _His dog died?_

Gryffindor House roars in outrage and the Great Hall descends into chaos around Viktor, who still sits, stunned, staring in the direction of the Slytherin House tables where a bunch of second years and prefects were under the table like a living bulwark.

Viktor grabs the lock of hair and starts shoving his way over, dodging food and jinxes and curses. He doesn’t get closer than maybe two meters before the seventh year Slytherins block his way.

He presents his hair with both hands.

“I didn’t know,” he says, “This is his, then, if he’d take it. As apology. Since he didn’t take recompense for himself.”

They eye him, and then simultaneously step aside.

Viktor makes his way to the table, then crouches down. He sees a small figure in the shadows looking miserable and humiliated.

“He found out just before he arrived this year,” a second year whispers.

“It’s really bad when the dementors are close,” another adds.

“That is no excuse for my not knowing,” Viktor declares and holds his hair out, “I should have paid more attention. I’m sorry that I put my wishes before your needs. I’m sorry it escalated. This, ah, this is yours, if you want it.”

The boy’s eyes dart up. His hands go to his mouth. “YOUR HAIR.”

Viktor shrugs, “I’ll make a quick floo to London, even it out.”

He ignores the rapid whispers wondering if he’s even allowed to DO THAT WTF. Viktor knows he has the funds to make the trip or at least donate enough to Hogwarts to make Dumbledore let him use his floo. He needs to look his best. He’s courting the father of his future puppies. He says that out-loud and then gets some very disturbed-looking faces.

“You... don’t want to raise puppies with me?” He asks. “I’ve stayed in touch with Makkachin’s breeder? Or… ah, sorry, I didn’t ask for your dog’s breed? Did you want—”

“Vicchan was a poodle.” The boy interrupts.

“Oh. That’s.”

The boy crawls out from under the table, carefully takes the silver lock of hair into his hands, and bows. “Apology accepted.”

Viktor waits, but he doesn’t seem to be willing to say anything more, tears dried even if his eyes are still red. “May I know your name?”

“It’s Yuuri.” There’s a slight hesitation, then a nod, “Yuuri Katsuki.”

And then Yuuri sweeps off like a king.

 _Ah,_ Viktor thinks, and his heart wiggles about in agreement. The food fight continues in the Great Hall. A banana peel lands on his shoulder and it takes him an entire class period to notice.

 

SEE AND THIS IS VITALLY IMPORTANT. Because look, Makkachin’s been wandering off this entire school year and Viktor’s been worried when he wasn’t worried about Yuuri because WHAT IF HIS HEART IS NOT BIG ENOUGH he doesn’t want to end up being like his rumors, he doesn’t want to be a selfish person, is Makkachin getting enough care? Is Makka feeling lonely? Or is Viktor not enough? Makka’s been sleeping more too! Is that a sign of depression?

And. Makkachin’s been sneaking food, hmmm. Viktor leaves out an entire basket at a time now, before he goes off to classes, and the basket disappears. He decides to skip classes one day because it’s just DADA, he’s already at the top of the class, and circles back to catch Makkachin come awake.

He loves it when Makkachin yawns!

And then the poodle smacks her jaws and gets up, grabs the basket by the handle, and floats out the window.

Huh.

Viktor follows her _like a ninja_ , and makes his way to the Shrieking Shack and then is ABSOLUTELY FUCKING HORRIFIED BECAUSE WHAT IS THAT POOR THING DOING LIVING THERE?!

He levitates the large black dog before he could run and coos at it that he’s gonna give it a nice bath and brush and let it eat as much as it wants but it has to be quiet first so they could sneak into the castle. And since the dog is Smart (and Serious) he doesn’t make any noise or sudden movement as Viktor sneaks him into his room and maneuvers him into his private bath. He leaves his basket there and promises to be right back, and bolts out the elfdoor to the Great Hall where everyone was settling into lunch.

“Yuuri!” Viktor shouts, and then skids to a stop by the other boy, “I found,” he lowers his voice to a whisper, “a dog, it’s so dirty and skinny and sad but I think he’d shine up nice all cleaned up and would you like to come help? I need another pair of hands, he’s huge, like. Wow!”

And Yuuri looks at his table and his table looks back at him and simultaneously leans their cheeks on one fist and drop their eyes to Yuuri’s wrist and Viktor’s all ??????

Yuuri grabs Viktor’s hand and nopes out of the Great Hall the moment he sees someone’s mouth start to open.

Viktor pulls Yuuri back when he’s all headed to Gryffindor tower and pulls him over to the elfdoor, and Yuuri’s eyes go wide with how convenient! And how cool! AND OMFG IS THIS YOUR ROOM I—!!!!

Except Viktor’s leading now and dragging Yuuri to the bathroom and his tiny face is full of sad as he sees the dog pick thru the basket he can see his RIBS. It’s TERRIBLE. And Yuuri nods in determination and takes off his robe then turns to Viktor to ask where he could hang it. They both hang theirs up and Yuuri’s hand goes to his wrist and he carefully takes off this bracelet.

It’s… silver? It’s.

...made of Viktor’s hair. There’s small charms on it. Viktor darts his eyes up and Yuuri gets super red and Viktor asks, “Runes right?”

“It’s… it’s not.” Yuuri stammers, “I didn’t!! It’s not a love spell!”

“I know,” Viktor replies, and points, careful not to touch, “ _Uruz_ for strength, creativity, wealth. _Wunjo_ for joy, glory, wisdom. _Algiz_ for protection, health, happiness. And three blanks, odin’s rune.”

“For unlimited potential,” Yuuri whispers. Viktor’s heart leaps.

“Besides,” Viktor laughs, “It’d be rather useless.”

Yuuri’s shoulders cave in, head down, and Viktor starts. He wants to shake Yuuri, he wants to grab his chin and tilt it up, but he'd jusr spent half a year with Slytherins hexing him and not even being allowed Yuuri’s _name_ and—

“No!” He kneels down so he could look up into Yuuri’s eyes, “I didn’t mean your magic wouldn’t work. I mean a love spell won’t… that I might be already...ah.”

Viktor stutters. Flushes. Reaches up for Yuuri’s fingers.

The black dog snorts really loudly, and they start apart, Viktor rising to his feet. The dog is staring judgmentally at them from the door of the bathroom. Makkachin huffs at the dog in response and starts herding him into the tub.

Makkachin is clearly the most brilliant of them all, so washing the dog is what they do. It takes up the rest of lunch break and into the next class but Viktor has no regrets and Yuuri says he has a study period.

He might be lying. _He might be lying for Viktor._ He might be lying to prove himself a great dog dad and Viktor just feels _blessed._

“You are such a good puppy!” Viktor coos at the black dog, tying the pup’s black hair into purple and blue bows after trimming the rest. He charms gemstones into the bows and Yuuri gasps at how pretty it makes the stray, then helps to transfigure a towel into a dashing sweater. Viktor adds gems to the sweater.

When Viktor pulls out his camera the dog tries to run, but Viktor’s first accidental magic was ice and the second was flotation so wandlessly casting an ice slick and a levitation charm is child’s play.

 

SO BASICALLY, they have a ton of dates just involving dogs and handholding. They’re like, second years, chill peeps. Slytherin 7th years hover and sideeye them. Viktor asks for Yuuri’s hair. There’s alot of drama happening around Potter but Viktor doesn’t really care because he is IN LOVE. Yuuri’s thought processes boil down to runes and Viktor and alot of incoherent screaming.

So, the usual.

 

The Goblet of Fire gets jammed with 53 people trying to submit Viktor’s name and it spits them all back out. When he tries to fly his own name in via origami fish the Goblet makes a very confused belch and a crackle of fireworks. Viktor sits up suddenly, staring intently at the firework patterns, and then in a wild flurry of paper, a freaking horde of origami animals flies at the goblet from various angles. They’re engulfed and explode and collide against each other in sequence, somehow forming the words:

<3 YOU ARE AMAZING YUURI KATSUKI <3

Yuuri covers his face over at the Slytherin table.

His table toasts him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've never watched Drunk History, [pull up a chair and delight yourself](http://www.indiewire.com/2015/09/watch-octavia-spencer-is-dope-as-hell-as-harriet-tubman-in-new-drunk-history-video-57535/).


	2. Some Prisoner of Az but mostly Fire Goblet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild romp through the background of Goblet of Fire plus some musings from a bedazzled dog.

OKAY. So ya’ll gotta remember, Sirius Black is the former Heir of the Most Ancient and Noble house of Dank Ass Motherfuckers. He knows from Dark. He knows that if you get hair from a magical being, you can control that being with the right spells. That’s why love spells (some of the dankest of dank) tend to be made with hair from the one you want to coerce emotionally.

So when he heard that Slytherin say ‘love spell’, he sure as shit wasn’t suprised to see hair involved when he rushed over.

But no Yuuri’s were harmed in the production of this History!

See, Sirius Black kinda had a shit day. He’d finally managed to convince Crookshanks of his Most Noble Plan and was lying in wait for Peter to be delivered to his paws when Makkachin turns up with both food and an uninvited guest. Sirius saw the Gryffindor scarf, and he thought, “Ah! I will look like a Sad Dog and be brought into the Gryffindor dorms and then catch Pettigrew myself!”

He sucks in his gut so his ribs show. He’s had lots of practice while dating, so it’s easy.

He uses puppy eyes, also easy.

The Gryffindor levitates him and proceeds to sneak back to the castle. He does it by floating up the outside wall which, huh, that’s a new one.

(9 points for execution, Sirius decides, due to lack of Invisibility Cloak)

But the boy didn’t go up to the tower at all, but dropped him in a bathroom in chambers overlooking the Great Hall. And then dashed again.

Next thing Sirius knows, a little Slytherin’s being dragged in with eyes like old blood and a face like he’s expecting to do battle.

Sirius’ hackles rise.

Makkachin scolds him.

Sirius’ hackles deflates.

_Buh?_

_I don’t understand,_ thinks Sirius as he looks at the bracelet on the Slytherin’s wrist. The Gryffindor’s kneeling to him but the spell doesn’t make sense. The hair’s woven back on itself, like the power gained through rune cycling is supposed to go back to the source. The runestones themselves would touch the skin, and draw power from the wearer, the flow of the etchings draw magic along the hair.

 _But it_ **_must_** _,_ thinks Sirius, _there must be a rune that grounds the power into the wearer. Why would someone steal hair just to give power BACK?_

Sirius does not know about the Great Hall Fiasco. Because the Hogwarts Elves are Professional as shit, right? They’ve seen Things. They’ve gone through CENTURIES of MAGICAL CHILDREN going through stupidity and general teenage hormone things. There IS no spill on aisle 9 (&¾) big enough to confound Hogwarts Elves: the food fight during Hogsmeade weekend was cleaned up long before everyone came back and once they did the biggest gossip was Draco Malfoy yelling about seeing Harry Potter at the Shack.

Why were you at the Shack _too,_ Malfoy?

(Scandalous!)

And thus Harry is still fucking out of the loop, and STILL doesn’t even know Viktor’s in his year, or famous, or Russian Royalty. (In Harry’s defense, he still doesn’t even know what _gender_ Blaise Zabini is, let alone the names of 85% of the students studying at Hogwarts, a quarter of which are IN HIS OWN HOUSE, because he’s too busy Saving The World)

So Sirius only much later learns that Viktor Fucking Nikiforov, who should know damn well what he was doing, offered up his own hair of his own free will which is the magical equivalent of giving up his soul on a platter. Of putting a collar around his own neck and giving the leash and lock and key to someone else.

Which is its own level of insanity that had the entirely of Slytherin House going, _well shit,_ and letting Viktor through to present the hair directly to Yuuri.

Meanwhile: All Sirius knows during Bath Time is that some Slytherin was sneaky enough to get a Gryffindor’s hair and probably has a Gryffindor under some sort of mind control or power leeching or SOMETHING and he Has To Be An Adult and keep an eye on things. As if he didn’t have enough on his plate with Pettigrew.

Next thing he knows, he’s in a doggie sweater.

He’s being bejeweled.

They decide to name him Salchow.

Moony must _never find out._

 

 

Moony finds out.

The Grim meets the Werewolf while wearing a sparkly purple sweater. It made things a little easier because the diamonds cracked its nails.

It made things much harder because Moony Has Questions.

So Many Questions.

Eventually in self-defense Sirius says to Buckbeak, HOMIE WE SHOULD PEACE OUT.

And so they did.

 

 

“Viktor,” Yuuri says at the end of the year. “Do you think Salchow’s alright?”

“He was always a stray,” says Viktor, “but I think he liked the baths! We’ll see him again I think!”

 

 

Except ya gotta first understand Viktor of the Most Ancient and Noble House of being 9000% Extra. He thinks he can handle summer.

(As in, a summer of him in Russia and Yuuri in Japan.)

_He cannot handle summer._

But luckily something unplanned was happening. Viktor’s forays into the house of learning has caused a Great Thirst for aerial dancing when Viktor’s too busy at Hogwarts for performances. It’s caused imitators to spring up.  Most of them leaned on charms as Viktor did. It allowed for large sweeping motions and and wide loops.

Not so with Yuuri. He uses runes, both placed on his clothes and sketched with his movements, and Viktor finds his dancing precise and delicate and nuanced and divine. Yuuri can pivot on a knut. Yuuri can trail runic sparkles behind him like fairy light and WHO THE HELL HAS THE STAMINA to do anything else besides concentrate on flying and dancing at the same time? Yuuri that’s who. Viktor watches the recording three times and then bursts into the parlor to leap onto his mother’s fainting couch.

“MOTHER!” He wails.

Ravijojla Nikiforova hums as she goes through the inventory paperwork for their holdings. Scrolls and quills flutter around her and she directs them like a snowstorm. Even the family of Baba Anastasia cannot escape taxes.

“Yakov?” she calls.

Yakov grumbles but drags the teen out and yells at Viktor until he goes back to practicing.

(Half of Yakov’s hair has fallen out by the end of summer. Viktor tries to flee to Japan at least twice a week.)

 

 

SO VIKTOR’S A FOURTH YEAR RIGHT, Yuuri’s third year, and they’ve been separated for an Entire Summer, which is TWENTY ONE MONTHS in dog years, and if they were both muggles and this was a tv show they would be running along a glass wall next to each other and then crash into a hug by the door.

They are not muggles.

There’s no glass wall to run along.

(There, however, IS a crash...)

It… might possibly be totally their fault that they broke Platform 9¾. No one knows for sure. A lot of Obliviates was used that day.

 _Don’t leave me,_ Viktor says, having been at the Quidditch Finals where a skull ate the sky.

 _I’m going to tutor you,_ Viktor says, knowing that going by strict Pureblood rules, Yuuri’s blood is ‘muddy’.

 _But I’m terrible at dueling,_ Yuuri says, _I forget the spells and the counters and._

 _I’ve seen you dance,_ Viktor replies. _You can duel. Let me teach you how to duel._ And means:

Create magic with me.

When Yuuri agrees, the Vow causes a shockwave that destabilizes the entire station.

 

 

ANYWAY Viktor’s fourth year is hella crazy because educationally he’s one year ahead except for Charms, where he SHOULD be testing for NEWTs except he begged off of all Charms classes and revisions to focus on his OWLs.

Which is a damn lie because he’s been spending the extra time shoving the entire library at Yuuri until he cries.

_Should I kiss you?_

Yuuri hexes Viktor with an illusion that makes him appear bald to everyone for Three. Whole. Weeks.

And barely anyone paid attention because there were Veela in Hogwarts! Triwizard Tournament! Viktor Krum!

TWO VIKTORS, an outrage! Viktor proclaimed when Krum first arrived and immediately goes around asking people for a nickname. It’s a little like a contest and a little like a festival and alot like a good excuse for Viktor to go around and claim Friendship with new people!

...and of course Harry Potter is completely distracted and misses the whole thing and feels very proud of himself for not being ridiculous and calling Viktor by his actual name instead of whatever it is everyone else is doing.

The ensuing half-hour rant in the Slytherin common room about everything from Harry’s lack of breeding to his asshole behavior towards both fans and peers got Viktor a fucking standing ovation from everyone within ear shot. Rita Skeeter makes sure her Quick Quotes is keeping up.

Draco Malfoy and two Prefects stare her down and say, “He’s an Unnamed Source.”

“Easily done,” she waves off. Like Rita would get herself in hot water with the son of Grand Duke Nikiforov, head of the Koschei. They don’t call their aurors _the Deathless_ for nothing.

 

 

The school year happens. The Goblet of Fire happens. Most of the younger Gryffindor have no clue what Viktor’s actual year is because he never uses the common room.

For the older students, Viktor’s been part of the Hogwarts tapestry for most of their memory and thus simply noisy backdrop like Peeves or the moving staircases or the Great Hall ceiling. He’s nice enough in classes but no one has ever even seen where he sleeps. Girls like to gossip about him but Harry kinda tunes it all out. And Hermione thinks gossip is disgraceful and refuses to participate.

Salchow’s back and wandering around the grounds and Viktor and Yuuri bling him up whenever they get half the chance. Hogwarts shifts into factions of Pro-Potter, Anti-Potter, and YA’LL NEED TO SHUT THE FUCK UP IN THE LIBRARY.

The latter group's mostly Ravenclaws and people stressing over NEWTs.

But Viktor Nikiforov does what he wants.

YUURI WILL YOU GO TO THE YULE BALL WITH ME?

And like, the scroll is two feet high and forever feet long, shedding glitter like hair from a pomeranian and Yuuri should know because Viktor’s sent him a twenty foot essay on dog breeds they should own and avoid just last week.

(He has such pretty penmanship, Yuuri had sighed.)

But THIS? Yuuri has no idea what to do with THIS.

“I thought,” Yuuri stutters, “we were going to own a dog.”

“Yes!” Viktor says happily, “So you’ll go to the ball with me then?”

“I think, I think there’s been some misunderstanding.” Yuuri says, and rises from the table, and leaves.

The once silent library is suddenly full of whispers.

 

WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED, Viktor mentally shrieks.

 

NO REALLY WAHT.

 

 

 

I DON’T GET IT.

 

 

 

 

 

HE AGREED.

 

THERE WAS A _VOW._

 

Viktor eventually gets kicked out for flipping half the tables during study hall.

 

 

Things to remember: People tend to mellow out as they get older. Ergo, Viktor Nikiforov at age 30 is very zen compared to Viktor at 15.

Things to also remember: Yuuri is Yuuri, and probably has more stable brain chemistry at age 23 than during puberty. Also, he thinks in katsudon. He doesn’t approach a topic sideways so much as he edges up to it, rings the doorbell, _and runs away._

 

 

Viktor that evening concludes that he has to try harder.

 

 

McGonagall irritably bats away a flying howler. She’d never seen them used as declarations of love before, and is not sure she approves. Her cup sings Yuuri’s name as she tries to drink her morning tea. All the cups are. She spikes the tea and the singing starts slurring. The forks and spoons are attempting a Paso Doble.

She stares down Flitwick as she sips.

“This is not my fault,” he protests, and tries to catch a napkin before it folds itself into an origami heart and flies its way towards Slytherin table. The Slytherins look like they’re having fun with target practice, shredding hearts. The table looks like it’s covered in snowfall.

 _“Charms,”_ McGonagall accuses him.

“Blame Snape’s student for breaking his heart then!” Flitwick squeaks. “We’ve all seen the bracelet, what was that boy thinking, messing with things like that!”

(Hufflepuff overhears, and rumors starts flying faster than unladen swallows, both African AND European)

(Ravenclaw overhears, and flip open their references)

(Most Gryffindor miss the whole thing due to internal drama. Harry Potter is in a ballroom, attempting to learn how to dance.)

The Weasley twins have cornered Nikiforov and are talking shop.

Viktor tho, Viktor only has one ear for them because the rest of him is watching Yuuri watch the Great Hall. Yuuri is watching his House guard him from flying hearts. He is watching the Gryffindors ignore Viktor, is watching the Ravenclaws studying them, is watching the Hufflepuffs say he bound Viktor’s heart to him. 

Viktor is the first, then, to notice when Yuuri slams his hands on the table and stand up.

“Viktor, WHY did you say such a thing?! Asking me to Yule?” Yuuri shouts at him from all the way across the Hall. Viktor drops out of his conversation with the others entirely, midsentence, starts walking over over to Yuuri as if pulled by a string.

“This. This from the beginning,” Yuuri shouts, “You want us to own a poodle. I don’t know _what that means_ , I have no name for this emotion!”

“So you don’t want to go to the ball?” Viktor asks, he holds his hands palm up, uncertain.

“NO—”

Viktor’s heart stops...

“—NO I DON’T KNOW WHAT I—”

...it starts again.

Yuuri clenches his fists at his side.

“We were going to own a poodle together,” Yuuri shouts, “Maybe other dogs!”

“Every dog,” Viktor says, nodding.

(“Is this a metaphor?” One seventh year asks another, very confused.)

“I want to hold onto you!” Yuuri’s crying now, “But you’re Viktor of House _Nikiforov!_ Your mother’s once shieldmate to Chief Warlock Marko. Your father’s _Grand Duke_ only because your _grandmother_ is Baba _Anastasia_ next in line to Baba Yaga, which _makes you a Prince.”_

“Non-sovereign.” Viktor points out lightly.

“I KNOW THAT.” Yuuri wipes at his face angrily. “I still just— I don’t know what I feel. Except I’d, I’d like for you to be there. And I’d like for us to have dogs.”

There’s a boiling feeling in Viktor’s chest. What is it.

“Yuuri, please let me understand.” He presses a hand to his forehead. Looks up and presses that hand to his mouth. “That was what you’d hoped for, that we can share a dog.”

Yuuri nods.

“That was the _only_ thing you hoped for.”

The Slytherin looks down, and blushes.

“No it isn’t.” Viktor pronounces.

“No it isn’t.” Yuuri agrees.

It was anger. The feeling in Viktor’s chest is _anger._ “That was what you _felt like you could ask for.”_

Yuuri looks up.

“Did you think I would _hide you?_ Like—” Viktor rakes his hand through his hair, “Like a mistress?”

There’s a self-deprecating tilt to Yuuri’s mouth.

And it’s like FUCK ALL THE THINGS, that Yuuri would insult them both like that, and Viktor bows to Yuuri, sharply, deeply, ironically, “You are cruel. In your kindness to me you are cruel. But thank you for continuing our dialogue, I will give you my response this evening.”

And then Viktor whips about and swans out of the Great Hall, halting all the ongoing charms because he has Shit To Do and he needs to Focus.

The Hall is silent for a long moment, before bursting into murmurs.

 

 

“What do you think Viktor’s response will be?” A fifth year Prefect asks Yuuri and Yuuri’s trying not to think about it. The only way he’d been able to wrap his head around spending time with his idol was by acknowledging that it was temporary. The only way that it in any way makes sense. Yuuri’s a half-blood, muddied, and a terrible Slytherin. He’s mediocre in all his subjects and has to have Viktor tutor him. He can’t even dance like Viktor does, Charm-ingly, but makes do with runic crutches instead.

He’s only going to drag Viktor down.

Yuuri thinks about saying as much, except he has _some_ pride. “Maybe a letter? I’ve been watching for Makkachin to sneak in.”

“Yeah we’ve been keeping an eye out for his owl.”

“Don’t think it’ll get in before House meeting starts,” Draco says smugly. Slytherin House pretty much goes on lockdown during meetings, and Professor Snape’s already sweeping in to take position in front of the fireplace.

Everyone quiets down.

Snape opens his mouth.

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Viktor’s voice says, instead of their Head of House’s usual dulcet tones. Snape clicks his mouth shut. Waits a moment.

Opens it again.

“I don’t believe you have an idea of your own worth.”

Snape shuts his mouth, waves his wand at his throat, and then tries again.

“I don’t believe that you know of my belief in you.”

Snape heads to the potions cabinet to the side of the door. Nobody’s breathing, or moving, or striving to be anything other than furniture.

“Maybe you only understand words if they’re cruel.”

Snape grabs a bottle, checks the label, and then throws it back in a long gulp. He coughs out a puff of smoke and opens his mouth.

Nothing comes out.

“So,” Snape says, testingly, “Twenty points fro—

[ My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06qrlwQNdpo).”

Everyone’s eyes grow large.

 “Coral is far more red than his lips’ red...”

They can _see_ Snape trying to close his mouth, the muscles straining, but he’s unable to stop.

“If snow be white, why then his breasts are dun...”

They all whip their heads towards Yuuri and Everyone’s Face Is Fucking Red. Some start staring at the ceiling. Firsties might be hoping for a quick death.

“If hairs be wires, black wires grow on his head.”

Maybe if they don’t look, maybe if they don’t move, maybe PLEASE maybe it might stop.

 

 

_It doesn’t stop._

 

Snape keeps going. They’re all gonna DIE.

“...And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

As any he belied with false compare.”

And as Snape’s mouth snaps closed, there’s a tap tap tapping on the House door.

_Oh my god, is Viktor actually._

Snape near apparates over and flings it wide and Viktor’s there smiling hearts.

“THREE HUNDRED POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR.” Snape roars and points a wand in his face, hand shaking.

Viktor nods. Hands up, and slowly lowers it to where his own wand lies holstered. Unhooks the holster and hands it all over to the Slytherin Head of House.

What.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING.” Yuuri screams. _He’s going to die._

“You know,” Viktor says conversationally to the former Death Eater, “If you Obliviate me, I’m just going to try again.”

Everyone stares.

“If you Obliviate anyone, for that matter, I’m just going to have to remind them of how much I value my Yuuri.” The smile suddenly falls off Viktor’s face. “I look forward to it.”

Viktor turns to Yuuri and Yuuri straightens under his look.

“Do you remember when I presented you with my hair?”

Yuuri nods.

“I didn’t give it to you because I trusted you to be kind.”

The fireplace popped like the room ran out of air.

“I gave it because it was everything I could give.” Viktor looks at him, and looks at him, “That’s what you are worth, if you must put a price to it. But it’s getting late. You have a house meeting.” Viktor bows. “I’ll take my leave.”

He sweeps off, closing the door gently behind him.

Snape still has his holster in his grip.

“He didn’t even ask again,” one of the first years whisper.

Snape tosses the holster to Yuuri and Yuuri catches it.

The Head of House raises his eyebrow, asking, _Well?_

“We should start the meeting.” Yuuri says.

Nobody has to remind each other that Nothing of that night ever gets breathed beyond the doors of Slytherin House. It’s Understood.

 

 

AND THEN TO ALL APPEARANCES IT’S DROPPED. Makkachin flies to Viktor the next day carrying Viktor’s holster. The students from three Hogwarts Houses and two other schools are DYING for gossip but no one says anything. Tutoring sessions between the two have stopped, the Great Hall is super tense during meals, and Salchow starts looking scruffy. Yuuri disappears a lot.

Day of the Yule Ball, and Yuuri’s hyperventilating in a bathroom.

 _What’s wrong?!_ wail the firsties. And the upper year girls are like, Stand Aside, We Recognize This Shit. They sweep in to take Smol Son firmly in hand and properly wing his eyeliner. When they’re done with him, Yuuri’s so pretty that the statues start crying. His blue robes are crisp and perfect. His hair is swept back. His hands don’t shake.

(He still panics in a classroom for a good while.)

When he arrives at the Ball, alone at the top of the stairs, he ignores his name being announced and looks for Viktor.

There, by the ice sculpture, far off in the distance below him.

Yuuri's heartbeat feels loud. But he's going to do this. He's practiced so much.

He activates his runes.

And throws himself into the air.

 

 _When he moves, it’s like music is being created around him,_ Viktor thinks, eyes wide.

 

The dance that he’d been practicing for the last three weeks melt from movement into meaning. Yuuri dances his uncertainty and his confusion and his awe, he dances hope and creation and conversations and— (his love—)

He spins to a perfect controlled hover, right above Viktor, hand held out.

 

_Dance with me?_

 

Viktor smiles, and charms himself up to join him.

 

 

 

 

(Harry was in the gardens at the time. Not the boy’s fault, he had Reasons.)

 

(Poor Harry, says moonbelowsea, the Love Story of the Century is happening right next to him and he has NO CLUE. This is the kind of thing that only happens in books as far as everybody else is concerned.  The kind of courtship that goes down in History and gets discussed for years as "did it even really happen". The kind of story that passes into Legend and Tales.)

(#Passes Moon a Drink)

 

 

WHERE WERE YOU, HARRY, WHEN ALL THIS SHIT WAS HAPPENING, one might ask. THE ENTIRE FUCKING CASTLE IS WATCHING THIS SHIT LIKE REALITY SHAKESPEARE AND WHAT WERE YOU EVEN—

This is how Harry Potter gets away with so much shit isn’t it. Fucking _Christ_ no one was paying attention...

 

 

Which works, until it doesn’t.

Until it really really doesn’t.

“My God — Diggory!”

 

 

Viktor stares, and listens to Dumbledore’s speech at the Leaving Feast. He may think Harry Potter’s a bit of a shithead but he’s survived the Triwizard Tournament. He’s survived the Killing Curse. He’s survived He Who Must Not Be. Viktor raises his goblet.

Dumbledore is saying that someone might be alive who has a vested interest in killing someone who is Viktor’s entire future. So Viktor will do the right thing, even if it isn’t easy.

 

 

“Viktor?” The Grand Duke is eyeballing Yuuri with no small amount of surprise.

They are in a very fancy receiving room. The unfairly beautiful woman tilts her head and leans in, examining him like a bird of prey.

“Who is this?”

“This is Yuuri! We’re going to make magic together and have puppies!”

“Not in that order.” Yuuri states, “Or in any way related.” He has his Game Face on.

“I hope not.” Viktor’s mother says faintly.

“And Yuuri is here because?” His father asks.

“Security reasons,” Viktor says firmly.

“May I floo my parents to let them know I’m safe?” Yuuri pushes up his glasses.

“Of course you’re safe here Yuuri!” Viktor clutches at Yuuri.

“I meant that they might have thought I’d been kidnapped.” Yuuri replies.

“WHO WOULD KIDNAP YOU, TELL ME THEIR—!”

“Son,” His father interrupts, “Did you ask _anyone’s_ permission before you brought Yuuri here?” He says it like someone’s had to train him to ask that question.

“This is why all those fairytales exist isn’t it?” Yuuri asks Viktor’s mother.

She’s pinching the bridge of her nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viktor's [Family](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grand_Duchess_Anastasia_Nikolaevna_of_Russia). [Is](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baba_Yaga#Folklore). [Really](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Koschei). [Fucking](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Supernatural_beings_in_Slavic_folklore#Vila). [Wild](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prince_Marko#Serbian_epic_poetry).
> 
> tfw you end up in a research hole for a crackfic


	3. Founders Era, An AU Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So you should all thank and praise moonbelowsea because originally I was fairly sure Hogwarts AU was Slytherin!Yuuri and Hufflepuff!Viktor, and she ended up asking what the other combinations looked like and that's a MUCH LONGER fic.
> 
> And I thought to myself today, self, you should explain what Slytherin!Yuuri and Hufflepuff!Viktor looks like _anyway_ , because that shit's hilarious.
> 
> (An Alternate Universe)

The thing about Slytherin!Yuuri and Hufflepuff!Viktor is that I can’t see it in any other era than Founders Era.

 

Let me explain a thing. Imagine Hogwarts castle beginning to be built and they maybe still haven’t formalized things so the first year or two of students, instead of being all consistently eleven years old, are instead a mix of ages. Because they're the First Formal Magical School Ever (or something like that). Imagine _most_ of these students, ranging from 11 to 27, have been tutored or home taught.

With the exception of two muggleborn.

While their families loved them, at some point you just really gotta call for backup. Or the Exorcist. The accidental magic was far too much for even the local magical practitioners to handle and so in the great tradition of Passing the Buck, the two young men got sent to Hogwarts.

 

 

Viktor wished for excellence, but more than that, he has spent the past two decades being all but shunned. He was lucky at the hunt, maybe too lucky, maybe too golden, too perfect, like the luck that crashed onto him was absorbed from everyone around him. This is a man who wishes for family and loyalty and warmth.

Helga welcomes him.

 

Yuuri wished for safety, but more than that, he has spent his 23 years as a burden on his family. They have moved from place to place when it became too obvious that things _break_ around him, they have had to struggle because his ability didn’t spare his family’s possessions; they have protected him when they could have easily drowned him. This is a man who wishes for control, for ability, for excellence enough to provide for them.

Salazar approves.

 

 

Salazar, however, fucking regrets _all the things._

Oh sure, they initially got along great, learnt fast, integrated well, helped build the castle on a cliff that will someday become magnificent.

And then Yuuri got drunk and climbed Viktor like it was a fertility rite upon which hinged the entirety of the next decade’s crops.

Then fucking denied anything happened.

 

Did you know the Slytherins used to live in a tower by the Gryffindor’s?

They moved to the dungeons when Viktor starting throwing stones at the windows. _He kept fucking breaking them._

 

Did you know the base of the castle used to be just a long sheer cliff? The common room was a large picture window that opened out into the expanse. Viktor kept smushing his face all over it and leaving streaks.

 

Did you know Salazar filled the base of the cliff with water until the Slytherin dungeons were below a lake? Viktor just invented gillyweed, and fucking skinny dipped. AND STILL LEFT STREAKS AGAINST THE WINDOW, THAT’S SO GROSS VIKTOR _COME ON._ (Professor Salazar, I’m pretty sure those streaks came from _inside_ the Slytherin Common Room.) DETENTION UNTIL SOMEONE COMES FORWARD.

 

Did you know Salazar stuck a squid in the lake? And Viktor just…

...

…

...yeah go watch some anime until you know how to finish that sentence.

WE HAVE CHILDREN IN THE CASTLE VIKTOR.

Says the man who insists that everyone knows all the ancient and noble traditions, such as fertility rites.

It’s your own damn fault, Salazar, Godric laughed.

HELGA DO SOMETHING.

I quite like the greenhouses that Viktor is making for me, Helga chirrups.

And then there’s fucking FLOWERS EVERYWHERE.

 

What do you have against flowers, Salazar.

Isn’t there an apple in the pie of your eye or some sort of moon and stars in your sky?

Don’t you have romance in your heart of hearts?

Don’t you have a sweetheart in your souls of souls?

I HAVE ASTHMA.

 

And eventually he has like, about two months of relief where the idiots finally work their shit out.

Except _then_ Viktor pretty much moves into the Slytherin dorms.

YOU HAVE YOUR OWN QUARTERS.

But they don’t have my Yuuri!

WHY ARE YOU IN MY CHAIR.

It’s the largest! We can sit in it together!

Salazar gets them couches.

WHY ARE YOU IN MY BATHROOM.

Just look at my hair, do you think such healthy hair requires no maintenence?

Salazar upgrades the bathrooms.

WHY ARE YOU TWO _ON MY DESK._

…

...

...Salazar gets a new desk.

 

Basically, when the fucking muggleborns graduate, Salazar hosts the BIGGEST FUCKING PARTY AND GETS HIMSELF SMASHED. So he misses the toasts when everyone finds out—

“Hi! I’m Professor Nikiforov, I’ll be teaching you Divination!”

“Hello, I’m Professor Katsuki and we’ll be going over Arithmancy and Runes.”

And then there’s nowhere safe.

Salazar fucking builds himself a clubhouse. It’s a Secret clubhouse, WITH NO FLOWERS WHATSOEVER, who’s full name is The Chamber Of All Muggleborns Named Katsuki-Nikiforov Should PISS THE FUCK OFF.

Rowena sometimes joins him.

 

WHY ARE YOU WEARING MY TIARA. _And nothing else?!?!?!?!?_

“Uh… we can explain.”

She throws her tiara into storage.

 _“Fucking muggleborns,”_ Salazar slurs and throws back three more fingers of good peaty scotch.

Rowena’s just drinking straight from the bottles.

 

He quits Hogwarts when they get tenure.

Godric chases after him, but never quite succeeds in convincing him to come back. They have loud screaming arguments over most of Great Britain. Frequently in bars, drunk off their ass. Godric is Salazar’s friend and lets him rant.

Because he understands that whenever Salazar says FUCK THE MUGGLEBORNS, what he really means is FUCK THOSE TWO MUGGLEBORN _IN PARTICULAR._

 

  
  
All this is lost to the annals of history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now whenever I see the [Fuck That One Place](http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/fuck-this-area-in-particular) meme, I just say to myself, _ah, Viktor and Yuuri's on vacation then._
> 
> Also, wherein Salazar is Yurio.


	4. WAIT I SHOULD REALLY TALK ABOUT SALCHOW, A Flashback to Prisoner of Az and Fire Goblet

The first impression Harry gets when he finally meets Sirius Black face-to-face goes something like, _Well he’s certainly Very Dapper for being a wanted criminal._

Also, _why is he dragging Ron by the ear?_

And, _what’s up with the sweater?_

See, if a person is starving that tends to (among other things) also mess with their brain chemistry. It exacerbates trauma, depression, anxieties, paranoias because the human body doesn’t have the energy to cope with all its shit and just nopes out of some of its normal functions.

A well-fed, freshly-bathed, and non-crazily-touch-starved Sirius Black does not decide to drag a kid through a tunnel based on the HOPE that the kid does not drop the rat that was the WHOLE POINT of dragging said kid through a tunnel. He, instead, quickly flips Ron’s robes inside out and traps Pettigrew in its folds, and then skims the entire robe off the kid. And ties the rat into a very solid bundle.

“You had a rat on you,” Sirius scolds the boy, Pettigrew all bundled up in one hand and Ron's earlobe pinched in the other. The weather was cold so the boy had pants and a jumper on under the robes, but it wasn’t snowing and the kid can fucking deal. “Come along now, we should get out of the cold and talk. That Shack will do nicely.”

 

“Padfoot!” Remus says at one point, “You’re looking rather... well?”

“Moony!” Sirius says back, and smiles like There Is Nothing To See Here.

“Your sense of style seems to certainly have. Changed.”

“Has it?”

“Your jumper.”

“My jumper.”

Remus coughs around a grin. “Why the gems, may I ask?”

“...it adds Gravitas.”

Which is when Snivellus breaks in.

 

 

Seeing Sirius Black in that that jumper might be one of the great joys of Snape’s existence.

 

 

Even knocked unconscious, there’s still a shit-eating smirk on the bastard’s face. Sirius puts the wand he’d ‘borrowed’ from the Gryffindor back in its holster with an unsatisfied frown.

 _There is very little dignity left,_ Sirius decides, flying Buckbeak and letting himself be spotted in various places across Great Britain and Europe. _Why shouldn’t I keep an eye on that creepy little blood-eyed Slytherin? He gives good ear scritches._

 _The food’s nice there,_ Sirius thinks as he lays a false trail into the Americas.

 _I miss warm baths,_ Sirius thinks as he escapes a raging moose in Saskatchewan.

 _Harry needs me close to Supervise,_ Sirius decides, reading a newspaper in a small itchy river port town in Columbia. It’s announcing the Triwizard Tournament in Hogwarts and the Scandal involving Harry Potter being named Champion.

 

“Salchow! You came back!”

“Viktor, you already have a dog.”

“But Makkachin’s my owl, Professor McGonagall!”

“Then you already have an owl, and dogs aren’t on the approved list.” McGonagall really wants some Tea, that’s what this is.

And then Viktor’s eyes lights up.

“Yuuri doesn’t have a dog!”

“Mr. Katsuki’s not allowed a dog, _either.”_

 

And that’s how Sirius Black becomes an owl.

 

 _Carrying mail around isn’t that bad,_ he thinks, _I don’t get what the big deal is._

He pads his way carefully through the tables collecting headpats and ear scritches from the younger years. The mail is carefully held in his mouth and it’s already been charmed to be drool-proof. Viktor laid a charm on him that recalls something of what they did to the Marauder's Map, Sirius never knew it could be adapted to humans. He knows where someone is once he hears their name; this must be what the owls are all tapped into. He wonders if this is how He Who Must Not Be Named hears himself called.

Speaking of which.

“Thank you Salchow!” Yuuri says, and pets him.

 _Still keepin’ an eye on you,_ Sirius thinks, but his tail wags without him. Traitor. Some Devilry from the Slytherins, clearly.

Draco Malfoy sneaks him some ham under the table. Bizarre.

“I really love your jumper, Salchow,” Dumbledore trills, stopping by on his way out the hall, leaning down to pat his head. Sirius narrows his eyes at the older wizard. Dumbledore winks. He can’t tell if the Headmaster is joking or asking for fashion tips, and which of those would be worse.

Everything is terrible.

 

At least he gets to spy on the Slytherins.

First thing he learned: that one second year that keeps sneaking off? is crying because she's homesick. Also snot and tears in his fur is disgusting.

Second thing he learned: the encoded letters from the sixth year are... idk, either love letters or a diary and he's embarrassed either way. Good encoding scheme though. Exceeds Expectations.

Third thing: Viktor Nikiforov thinks Harry is an asshole.

Sirius gets a front row seat to a scathing critique of Harry’s inability to eat with any dignity (he’s a kid!), speak with fans (okay valid), call Viktor by a nickname _(what??),_ and—

“And Makka was a _girl_ that day! She decided not to have any,” And here Viktor gestures effusively, shimmying his hips, “If Potter even bothered to _look._ I put her in _a pink collar_ so he can’t say he was being polite by not staring.”

“That asshole still hasn’t realized I’m  Deciding,” Blaise adds. “He keeps getting my pronouns wrong even when every other Gryffindor seems to catch a clue. Do I need to color-code _my hair?_ Is that what it takes?!”

“SEE!” Viktor proclaims.

“Maybe he’s just shy?” Yuuri pipes up. “Or he doesn’t know what to say. It’s not really. Well known? In muggle society. It’s not so easy to change _things_ there.”

Sirius finds himself appalled along with everyone else in the room. He really needs to get Harry away from the Dursleys if _these_ are the manners they’re teaching him.

Across the room Rita Skeeter’s taking copious notes.

“Oh Yuuri, you’re being too kind.” Viktor says, and everyone nods as he launches into Example Number 36 of Why Harry Potter’s Obliviousness Is Ruining Everything But Mostly Makes His Face Very Punchable.

Sirius decides Harry Needs An Intervention.

 

“Sirius! Sirius stop. I need to know about dragons why are you—”

“Listen Harry, we don’t have much time during this firecall and we’re only on page 237 of the Celeste Mu’s Etiquette Manual For The WellBred Purebred. _Pay attention.”_

 

Thing is, Sirius had already been planning on whisking Harry away from the Dursleys for the summer. It was in the Works. He had things Set Up. Harry needs to be brought up to speed and Sirius was going to have to sneak away from Yuuri, but it’s not like he’s going to be missed.

He’s pretty sure he’s not going to be missed.

Nearly certain.

He’s wearing a sparkly blue sweater on Platform 9.75, and looking up at Viktor and Yuuri hugging before they part, Yuuri’s fist in his collar like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

_Fwip._

And then they were dropped in a receiving parlor of a very fancy ass place, even by Most Ancient and Noble Standards.

Viktor’s parents sweeps in, Royally, with what appears to be servants large enough to double as bodyguards. Yuuri is questioned and examined and Viktor clutches the Japanese boy to him like a body pillow.

Viktor’s mother is pinching the top of her nose.

And then she looks up and waves at Sirius. “And _him?”_

Which is when Sirius realizes that he’s not a dog at the moment.

 

Anti-animagus wards are a shitstain aren’t they?

 

 

The teens are staring at him in surprise.

“That’s Salchow,” Yuuri declares flatly. Like he’s going to war.

“Your clothes are terrible,” Viktor pronounces.

Viktor’s parents look at Sirius, then look back at the teens. “You are not worried?”

They both shrug, “He’s had plenty of chances to do something. He didn’t.”

“And now I’m home,” Viktor says cheerily, as the body guards stand 5 inches broader. Their fingers look nimble, like they could spell you inside out and make at least a dozen origami animals with your offal. They look like they could crush a skull in their armpit.

“Viktor’s not worried,” Yuuri points out, and pushes his glasses up. “Salchow… have you eaten yet?”

“Uh?”

“I’m hungry,” Viktor decides out-loud. “Aren’t you hungry, Yuuri?”

“Let’s have lunch,” Yuuri says.

“It’s suppertime,” The Grand Duke points out.

“Let’s have that too.”

And Viktor claps and leads them all out, and Yuuri asks him if he’s warm enough, and Sirius doesn’t quite know what’s happening. When he glances back, the Grand Duke looks confused and his wife just appears fondly exasperated.

Alright then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moonbelowsea: MAKKACHIN THE GENDERFLUID DOG IS NOT SOMETHING I'D HAVE THOUGHT TO SEE COMING FROM ANY POSSIBLE DIRECTION OKAY  
> Moonbelowsea: POSSIBLY IT SHOWED UP FROM THE FOURTH DIMENSION
> 
> Bone: I COULD NOT REMEMBER WHAT PRONOUNS I USED  
> Bone: THIS IS ME SAYING FUCK IT


	5. Order of Pho Part 1

“Are you… crying?”

“I’m MAD okay?

And it’s not like Viktor doesn’t have good reason when Yuuri went and got himself a Tattoo.

 

Yeah.

 _That_ Tattoo.

Yeah I know, _shhhhh,_ look, it’s okay, it happened like this:

 

When Sirius stumbles out of the room after Baba Anastasia read him the riot act for a solid half hour, Viktor and Yuuri meet him with a stiff cup of Tea. It’s very needed. Viktor’s grandmother is TERRIFYING.

SHE’S STILL AT THE DOOR WATCHING THEM HOLY SHIT.

“Yuuri,” she says. “Your turn.”

And Yuuri walks to her steely faced, hands laced behind him. Sirius can see his fingers shaking. He doesn’t blame the boy.

He still feels shaky himself.

He wants to stop Yuuri and he looks at Viktor, who shakes his head and tries to pull him from the hallway.

“Let’s wait,” says Sirius.

So they wait.

It’s maybe forty-five minutes and Sirius is Seriously Calculating his chances against the guards, and he’s wondering how fast he can move. He looks at Viktor and the kid won’t meet his eyes. Looks at the guards again and imagines what could be happening behind that door and the hair rises at the back of his neck. The wards are strong enough in this wing to be able to crush screams.

He walks towards the door, anyways, and he feels Viktor at his back. Sirius stares down the guards, but they don’t move except for their eyes following him, like gargoyles or inverted mirrors, and they watch each other as Sirius opens the door, one arm behind him to ward off Viktor.

Yuuri and Grandmother Anastasia are behind that door, drinking tea.

She puts down the cup and looks at Yuuri.

“You were right, less than an hour.”

Yuuri tilts his head at her and pours her more tea from the teapot. His hands are trembling a little. The boy looks at Sirius, and his face is relieved.

Sirius looks at Viktor and the teen tilts his head up to _laugh in his face._

“So everything’s fine then, Baba?” Viktor chimes.

“Foolish grandson,” she scolds, “They need lessons. They wouldn’t last a _minute_ in Russian politics, let alone that cesspool where What’s His Face crept back to life, what were you _thinking?”_

“That I have the most wonderful family in the world with the best teachers!”

“...you are not wrong.”

 

Well okay, it didn’t happen exactly like that, there is also:

 

“Viktor Nikiforov!” Umbridge coos at him, “It’s a delight, a sheer _delight,_ to teach here with you gracing the halls.”

Viktor shakes her hand and beams at her the way his mother taught him, “The delight is all mine, Professor.”

“Come in, come in, it’s a good time for tea!” She bustles her way into her domain.

“Ah, I don’t suppose you mind my bringing in Yuuri’s owl? He’s in Potions right now and that’s no place for an animal.” Viktor gestures to Salchow who sits obediently at heel, a sparkly pink jumper sitting smartly across his shoulders.

“How could I argue against that color scheme?” Umbridge trills.

They both laugh like fingers on chalk boards. They sit themselves to tea. “Now what is it you’re here for, dearie?”

“I’m afraid I’m a little confused Professor, but maybe you could help clear up the syllabus for me?” Viktor asks lightly, fingers carefully tucked into Salchow’s collar. “And what is this I hear about Potter mucking about in class?”

“Well you see…”

 

And then there’s:

 

They are Slytherin, and mild-faced or cheerful or glaring as they stride through the halls.

When the painting shuts behind them they move off towards their rooms.

Whispers, “It’s good to see you made it back. I didn’t know if...if...”

Whispers, “Are your parents… I mean I heard…”

Whispers, “It’s not that I’m scared, but. It’s just a little _concerning,_ right? that…”

Sirius, with his dog’s hearing, can’t not hear this.

And then there’s Yuuri.

He’s leaning against a wall, face pale, Sirius at his feet and able to do nothing. He’s breathing just a hair too fast, controlled in that way that’s keeping down a scream. He smells a little like anxious sweat. He looks fine if you don’t know how to look.

Sirius has learned how to look.

He whines, and it stops the Slytherins around him.

Yuuri looks up at everyone watching him and crumbles into himself. “I promised I’d be better at this,” he says, “I’d spent this _whole summer_ working on this, and I can’t even. Can’t even _make it to my room—”_ his voice is broken.

“I’m sorry.” Yuuri says. “I’m _sorry_ I’m so _weak._ I’m just. I’m _scared.”_

And Phichit slams into his side. “Stop. Stop, _I am too._ Don’t, Yuuri, don’t say—”

A seventh year girl hovers her hand towards his shoulder. Yuuri remembers hiding behind her robes his first year. He remembers how hugging him seemed to make her feel better. She slings her arm around his shoulder.

“Join the club,” she mutters, as she stares at the ceiling, blinking hard.

Two firsties cling to her robe. Some second years sit themselves next to Sirius and refuse to budge. Almost the entire upper classes pause right where they are and are unable to meet each other’s eyes. Some, here and there, drift off with a deep feeling of unease.

The sounds of Yuuri choking back wet breaths echo down the halls.

 

And also:

 

“Potter formed a group to cover Defense,” Viktor says quietly, like an earthquake underneath a mile of ocean, “and did not invite _any_ of the Slytherins?”

“I think the group formed by itself,” Phichit says, a little muted himself, the second year Slytherin having squashed himself next to Yuuri, “from what I could tell from the rumors, but we’re not. Um, the Slytherins are not—”

“Generally not welcome,” Yuuri finished. “It’s usually alittle. Well. ‘Not advised.’ For younger Slytherins to be outnumbered in the hallways. And right now everyone’s so resentful of Umbridge...and our Prefects, they’re trying to keep her eyes off us.”

“If the younger Slytherins go, they’d be outnumbered.” Viktor says, thinking out-loud, hand at his mouth, “If the older ones go to support them, the other houses would take that as an attack.”

Viktor glances at Salchow, and then they both look at Yuuri, and Yuuri’s eyes grow determined, “It’s boring being depressed.” Yuuri agrees and looks at the rest of the room, at the gathered Slytherins, “We’ll find a place, make our own group.”

“And _you’re_ going to tutor us, little _fourth year?”_ Draco drawls.

“I rather think he means me,” Viktor says lightly.

And Salchow turned back into man, “I figure I’d be of some use as well.”

Then he scratches at his neck and a sea of glitter falls from that day's jumper.

 

And yet there’s this:

 

“AND THEN HE COMES UP TO ME AND ASKS TO BE TAKEN TO VOLDEMORT.” Snape shrieks at the Headmaster.

“I’m sure you’re missing some steps,” Albus says, “Lemon drop?”

“HE GAVE ME THESE ALREADY,” spittle’s flying impressively. A bag lands on his desk.

Albus opens it carefully and cheers delightedly, “I’d never thought you’d be the one to supply sweets, Severus.” Then peers at it closer. Hmm. Are those runes? _Hmmmmm._

Albus looks up to see Snape glaring resentfully at the Sorting Hat.

And Sorting Hat be like I COULD’VE WARNED YOU BUT NO. YOU DIDN’T ASK.

Hmmmmmmmm.

“Tell me Severus, how _is_ Mr. Katsuki as an Occlumens?”

“TERRIBLE.” Snape hissed. “And it just might work.”

“What might, dear boy?”

 

Because see—

 

IT SEEMED LIKE A PERFECTLY REASONABLE IDEA AT THE TIME THO. Here is this boy, not the strongest in wandwork, but a prodigy at runes, heart completely stuck on a person out of reach of his very commoner blood, in position to spy at Hogwarts, can teach his troops how to fly, and Katsuki says to him, I’m Very Worried for Viktor, Viktor’s teaching Slytherins how to defend themselves, Viktor is putting himself in the line of fire, Gryffindors Hate Viktor, _Potter_ Hates Viktor, _Potter Kills Things,_ Viktor’s gonna—

And Voldemort holds up his hand because really, someone can’t be that single-minded can they? I MUST TEST YOUR LOYALTY BEFORE I AGREE, he says.

IT WON’T HURT A BIT, he says.

LEGILIMENS, he says.

 

Well, it didn’t hurt _Yuuri_ that much, quite frankly, because he’s used to his mind lashing at itself, thorn teeth lined up in rows like claws like spines like snakes upon snakes eating its own tail. He rips himself up, gnaws himself _bloody._ He’s had to wall up the most precious parts of himself for _years,_ and the rest of himself is focused intensity just to survive.

Yuuri left with a new Tattoo.

 

Meanwhile...

 

Voldemort: Look I have made Katsuki a Death Eater

Also Voldemort: You’ve fucked up a perfectly good brain is what you did. Look at yourself, you’ve got anxiety.


	6. Order of Pho Part 2 (Sprinkled gently with a bit of HBP)

We last left Voldemort with a little gift in his brain. It’s a little parasite of a gift that hides itself cleverly and feeds itself well. It’s a little voice that says, _I don’t trust this._

It’s a little voice that says, _Seven horcruxes? why should I bother with Seven. Why not NINE._

It’s a voice that says, _I don’t like how that Death Eater Looks At Me._

It says, _I think Imperius sounds like a very good idea._

(Luckily it also says, _at least that Katsuki is properly scared of me, look how well he keeps his head down and follows directions, gosh. Such a polite young minion. Very efficient in delivering his runic wards. Carry On.)_

 

Let’s be real, Voldemort’s not the most mentally stable of folk in the first place. But sometimes all it takes is one. last. push...

Things start coming to a head much faster. Voldemort stretches himself thin with the number of Imperiuses he’s holding. He forcibly gains more followers but loses people when Death Eaters start sending their families off with their inheritance and cutting themselves from the family line. He’s checking and rechecking his two new horcruxes.

He’s even made a clock. A Family Clock with hands representing each family member, indicating whether they’re safe, troubled, or in danger. But where other people put their actual family members on there, Voldemort puts himself, Nagini, his two new Horcruxes, and two old ones, cup and diadem. He thinks it rather elegant.

And then one of the hands go to DESTROYED.

What.

And then a second hand does too. Then a third.

_What._

Heads roll that day. Literal heads and Literal rolling.

 

Sirius hides himself carefully and snorts at Voldemort’s clock of Me, Myself, and I. He watches until the Voldemort hand is on ‘Minion Wrangling’ (not to be confused with ‘Presiding In Front Of Idiots’) and Nagini is on ‘ZZZZZ’.

He is quietly glad that he’s UnMappable right now, and also that this is not the first time he’s seen the clock because he’d legit had to escape and laugh quietly into a mug.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself here.

WHY IS SIRIUS UNMAPPABLE YOU ASK.

 

One summer, not so very long ago, a very old woman asks a boy, “Are you ever going to let him say his name?”

And the boy says, “His name is Salchow.”

“Let us see how that goes,” the old woman hums and the tea-table tilts towards her on its chicken legs. She smacks it lightly until it settles back down. “I will help him if he helps himself. He will have to choose, you realize.”

“The strongest things are chosen,” the boy agrees.

 

Sometime several months after this tea party, an old man asks for an old house to be rebirthed as the home for a Phoenix. When the Black Heir opens up Grimmauld Place, he looks around himself and thinks, _this is the most expensive piece of crap I’ve ever had the misfortune of stepping foot on._

There are plenty safer places for him to sleep, Sirius thinks.

 

“Thank you for arriving so promptly to detention,” Inquisitor Nikiforov smiles. “Professor Umbridge has allowed me to take over for today.”

Most of the younger years don’t know him well and look at him warily, frightened, while the older years look alarmed and confused.

“Your punishment should fit the nature of your crime.” He says lightly, and watches them sweat for a long moment. “So I expect these two dogs to be _thoroughly_ washed and petted within the next four hours.”

Everyone stares at him while he taps a finger to his lips. “These are some Ferocious Beasts, after all, and they will probably ruin your hands.”

“Ruin… our hands.” They blink at him.

“It’s good that I’m well versed in healing charms then!” Viktor winks. “In fact, let me see them before you leave, can’t have people owling their parents about unconscionable punishments, now can we?”

And Sirius snorts and shares an eyeroll with Makkachin.

 

 _“Expecto Patronum,”_ Sirius repeats carefully during this study group, and slowly goes over the wand movement, explains how the magic goes with the emotion goes with the memory of happiness. Maybe safety. Maybe peace.

There’s a little something in the way that he’s greeted by blank expressions that makes him move the lesson along quickly. He explains charms to facilitate movement and escape and other protection methods instead.

And chocolate. He thoroughly explains chocolate. With Examples.

(He’ll tutor individually later, perhaps. He’ll have to speak to the older Slytherins and Viktor and Yuuri. The Patronus is not something necessarily easy in a group, such as this. He remembers how hard it was for it to learn, himself.)

 

“Salchow, what _a lovely vest_ you are wearing today.” Snape says with a very subtle sneer.

Sirius twitches his nose.

Yuuri looks up at the git with a wrinkled forehead but doesn’t stop petting Sirius and Sirius thinks that, yes, he _might_ be a dog, with perfumed fur, and wearing a _puce jumper_. Festooned with _rhinestones._ But.

Sirius knows that the status of Snape’s relationship with Slytherins Is Complicated, at best. The Head of the House is out of the loop in most things, the students do not share their worries, they have not revealed that they know Salchow’s true nature, they do not share their thoughts on the War— especially because each person’s opinion on it changes almost hourly. How do you weight family against safety against fear against pride? What choice might serve their family best? Which decision will keep everyone safest? How do you survive in the long run? Who will make you suffer least in the short?

Meanwhile Sirius is here, lying in the lap of Slytherin luxury, being coddled to within an inch of his life by Yuuri and his Housemates. They feed him by hand, and whisper secrets into his fur, and give excellent scritches. He cannot be arsed to give a _shit_ about Snape. He is comfy and sleepy and for this moment, safe.

Snape can go hang, and he doesn’t need a lick of help from Sirius to do so.

 

There comes a time before Dumbledore is deposed, when he calls Yuuri to his office and with him comes Salchow.

“Salchow, I have given you leave to stay at Hogwarts, despite _my express orders_ mind you, because you have acted kindly towards a House which ordinarily brings out all of your worse nature.” Dumbledore sighs and stares out the window.

“Headmaster?” Yuuri asks. And Sirius tilts his head in question.

“There are forces beyond your sight working to move me from this position. I will not be Headmaster much longer.” Dumbledore stares deeply into Sirius. “Help guard all the children that I and those of mine cannot.”

Sirius stares back, and nods.

 

(But Yuuri doesn’t know when to stop taking responsibility and hears the words speak to him.)

(As Dumbledore meant to.)

 

And the thing is, Harry has known Sirius is Salchow since that whole Incident with Moony. So he’s watching Sirius turn into the Slytherin pet, even though he _knows_ Sirius is spying on them but. It’s been awhile and Sirius never seems to share any of his findings with Harry. Harry tells himself that Sirius is probably directly reporting to Dumbledore.

Harry tells himself not to feel hurt that Sirius is spending more time with the scruffy-haired bespectacled Slytherin than he is with his scruffy-haired bespectacled _godson._

It doesn’t actually work. Harry spends a lot of time glaring at the Slytherin table. He is, maybe, just a bit, _enraged._

He worries that they’re going to corrupt Sirius. That they’re setting Sirius up for a trap.

So when he gets the Visions, they’re all too easy to believe.

 

He tells Snape, but it’s not enough. And Harry doesn’t know if he can trust Snape to get help. He has to go to the Ministry.

 

And the battle at the Ministry is a clusterfuck. Death Eaters appear and Order members appear and Sirius appears with Viktor at his tail. Everyone’s dueling and then the shelves are falling and the walls are collapsing and Viktor’s flying Harry from the room while Harry screams, “SIRIUS.”

He sees Sirius falling towards the veil.

 

 

 _No,_ Harry thinks.

 

 

_No don’t._

_You’re the only family I have left._

 

 

_You can’t._

 

_please_

 

 

 

 

In the beginning of Harry’s sixth year, he finds himself dragged to the Slug Club. It shouldn’t shock Harry as much as it does when he sees Slughorn fawning over Viktor Actual Russian Prince Nikiforov and That Slytherin who is being _introduced as his Future Consort. Did that happen because he got Sirius killed?_ Are they _Celebrating?_ When Voldemort has come back? _When Sirius has died?_

Harry registers only The Person who pulled him away from Sirius’ last moments. Harry feels gutted, and Harry sees red.

Because This Person and That Slytherin look pleasant and calm and not at all disturbed. And Harry just.

He walks up to them.

“Aren’t you upset,” he says lowly, face feeling tight, “that your _dog_ died last year?”

“What?” Viktor asks lightly.

“Are you bloody fucking _upset,_ at _least,_ that YOUR DOG _DIED._ LAST YEAR.” Harry roars at them, “DON’T TELL ME THAT YOU FORGOT HIM ALREADY.”

And That Slytherin just looks at Harry with the blankest most godawful face, and Harry just wants to _punch it right off._

And so he does.

(Well, he tries.)

 

Harry is banned from all future meetings of the Slug Club.

Slughorn has him over for tea and apologies and Slughorn talks. For some reason the Professor talks and he keeps on talking and _oh._ Oh the Professor knows his mother.

He talks… of Horcruxes.

 

What Harry didn’t know was that earlier, Viktor had pulled Yuuri aside and they watched as Harry was torn from the room. They’d watched last year as Harry had battled with the press and were hesitantly approving. They had heard Salchow rant over Harry’s living conditions and were appalled. They had seen the marks Umbridge left on Harry’s hands and even if they found his methods shoddy… no one should have gone through that.

Harry, it must be admitted, had been dealt from a shit deck with shit luck.

It‘s the work of a moment to work a charm.

Viktor thinks, _Luck, to make his days go easier._

Because the truth is Viktor feels guilty. It must be rough on Harry to not know that—

 

One hectic evening, a very old hag catches a man in a mortar before he hits the veil to the doorway to death and whisks him away with a turn of her pestle-portkey. They land in a very fancy drawing room.

“Baba Anastasia.” The man greets, winded, wary.

“Child,” she greets in return.

They watch the fireplace crackle for a moment. She lets him catch his breath.

“Everyone there probably thinks I’m dead, don’t they.”

“Until they try to track you,” she nods.

“...and I suppose you have a solution to that little matter?”

“We had been considering offering it to you, yes.”

“ ‘We’?”

“If you were blood-adopted, you would disappear from the Black records and become untraceable through their House artifacts. You would be unsearchable by Name.” She sets forth a bottle and it’s red in firelight like pigeon hearts.

“They would only have to trawl the registrars for new branches in family trees to get a name. With Death Eater resources it would be quick, if they were determined.”

“Not if the family doesn’t exist yet.”

“How can they be a House with strong enough magic to catalyze a blood adoption? How could a House exist and _not exist_ simultaneously?”

“When it is held together only by a Vow.”

 

Salchow Katsuki-Nikiforov reports directly to Dumbledore. It’s made very convenient since he’s an Owl and knows where someone is once he has their Name. He’s been set to tracking Voldemort’s bits of soul, made difficult for the fact that he never bothered Naming his souls, and then destroying them; it’s entertaining and Very Satisfying work, truth be told. Dodging Death Eaters is wicked fun.

Salchow also tries to report consistently to his blood-parents. They worry. (“Are you getting enough to eat?” Yuuri presses into his arms a basket the house elves put together, “I made sure they put some Katsudon in there.” Meanwhile Viktor tries to be subtle as he refreshes Sirius’ warming charms. He is Not Subtle.)

He should be far more annoyed that he’s a grown ass man and they’re acting like this but. (“Here, we made another jumper for you, it has pink and purple lightning bolts! Viktor charmed it to flash.”)

This is completely ridiculous but. (“Have you had a bath? Does Viktor need to give out more detentions? The younger years are asking after you, have you visited yet?”)

His own _actual_ parents hadn’t even— (and Yuuri hugs him, bags under his eyes, and wanders off muttering to himself about finding extra scarves. Viktor looks after him, worried, and whispers, “You Know Who has been wanting him to make more flight runes. Yuuri’s making sure they’re overpowered and hard to control but, it takes a lot out of him.” Viktor beams, “It should make it easier for you to dodge if you come up against them.” And ruffles his hair. “Do you have enough money?”)  

Salchow sighs and puts on his jumper. He very keenly feels kinship to the Weasleys, all of a sudden.

 

Some time several months ago when Viktor and Yuuri were preparing the adoption potion with Baba...

Ravijojla’s squeezing the bridge of her nose.

"YOU SAID NOT IMMEDIATELY,” Viktor’s mother yells, “YOU SAID NO PUPPIES _IMMEDIATELY.”_

“I said we weren’t going to have _magical_ puppies together,” Yuuri says primly, “I’m not a furry.”

“A what.”

“Oh, hmm, what’s the proper term for it?” The boy hums awkwardly, “I don’t have a fursona? I wasn’t planning on _actually bearing magical_ puppies?”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Viktor pipes up.

“Is this making sense to you?” Ravijojla asks her husband.

He’s looking through his slides and muttering, “I don't have the powerpoints for this. I have the safe sex ones all prepped.” He drops them all to the floor and sits on the fainting couch heavily. “I was not prepared for teenage parenthood to even be a _factor.”_

The Grand Duke flops over and sticks his face in the pillows.

“Everything about you makes so much more sense now,” Yuuri says to Viktor.

 _“Hush,”_ Baba says, and stirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> moonbelowsea is a treasure of a beta and a reader and fuck it I'm dedicating this to her because this insanity would not exist otherwise #HEARTS


	7. Modern Era, Another AU Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (An Alternate Universe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry but I had to write this.

But let’s take a moment to talk about Gryffindor!Yuuri. A Yuuri in Gryffindor is the one that left his home to go to Detroit to pursue a sport that, while supportive, none of his family really understands. This is the Yuuri that, because he loved something so very much and it was what he _had to do,_ struggled onward for five whole years despite feeling so very alone.

“Welcome home, Yuuri,” his mother says, excitement making her features vibrant, but she restrains herself from embarrassing her child with her effusive hugs. It’d always been awkward trying to give her Yuuri support; their pride seem to make him overwhelmed, their excitement causes him to shrink. Even now when Hiroko is just so glad Yuuri made it back (from competing all around the world!), Yuuri only looks at her, sad and guilty.

“Hello mum,” Yuuri says, doesn’t meet her eyes.

“Ah, you’d want to see Vicchan, right?”

Yuuri nods.

“Vicchan!” Hiroko calls out, she enhances her voice so it booms across the castle.

And a small silvery ghost zips over and starts dancing around Yuuri’s legs.

“Vicchan,” Yuuri whispers, shaken, and crouches down and hovers his hands around the poodle’s shape. A tiny ghostly tongue leaves little trails of light all over Yuuri’s face, as if sketching tears.

Hiroko sighs. They never even recovered the body, though they suspect it’s somewhere in the Forest. Vicchan had kept trying to leave after Yuuri left for the muggle world, and they’d been careless. Mari still wanders the Forest on weekends, looking, but maybe it’d be enough that Yuuri has returned, to give Vicchan some peace.

“Professor Hiroko,” McGonagall says sternly, “It’s been awhile, I know, but we should get the first years inside.”

“Oh yes, my apologies Headmistress!”

She guides Yuuri to an anteroom just off the entrance to let everyone through and it’s probably a good thing. Because only a bare couple moments after all the tiny firsties have rushed by and she started asking after Yuuri’s trip, there comes a sudden loud knock.

“Hello?” A voice calls.

Yuuri looks to her in shock.

“We’re not expecting anyone,” Hiroko answers his unspoken question.

He moves towards the door in a daze.

When he opens it, he’s bowled over by a large fluffy poodle.

The armor lining the hallways lean out of their niches to look. The paintings fill with people. Vicchan bounds over to bark at the new dog, who snuffles at small ghost in confusion.

 _“Wow.”_ The man breathes.

“Viktor?? I thought you were a muggle!” Yuuri says, pushing the poodle to one side so he could see.

“A what?”

“Yuuri…” Hiroko begins.

“All this time I thought I had a chance to, to compete against you but. Were you using magic?!”

“Magic?” The man-who-is-probably-Viktor repeats lightly, a bewildered tone, still peering around the doorway.

An armor waves shyly. Viktor waves back.

 _“Yuuri.”_ Hiroko insists, but—

“You…” Yuuri starts heatedly, and then pauses, looks at him.

There’s wonder in his eyes, Hiroko knows, but she’s more distracted by—

“Did you even _know_ about magic?” Yuuri asks slowly as if he’s sounding out the words.

Viktor squatting to stare at Vicchan. Who is futilely licking his nose.

Viktor’s trying to pet the ghost, but his fingers fall through. And Hiroko _stares_ because—

“Then… then how did you even find Hogwarts?”

“Yuuri!” Hiroko has to raise her voice.

“Ah, sorry Kaasan,” Yuuri looks at her finally and it's very rude of her but she _must_ point at Viktor’s hand, because Yuuri isn’t _looking:_

“Why is he wearing our family’s Courting Ring?”

Ordinarily, Japanese Houses, no matter how Ancient and Noble, tend to mirror their muggle countrymen in not making much To Do about rings, wedding or otherwise. A ring is pretty much like any other piece of shiny decadence you’re gifted by a loved one; bring it out for special occasions but keep it safe and locked away normally. However the Katsuki Family Courting ring is Different.

Its purpose is to be worn constantly until marriage vows has taken place, passed down for generations to any child of the family who travels; originally crafted by an Heir who’d found the Love Of Their Life during an adventure and then promptly lost track of them for the next _decade_ due to a combination of the fact that there was alcohol involved and that their intended was a Hibiki. It guides the ring-bearer to the one who gifted the ring, and barring that, to the location of the highest concentration of their bloodline.

It’s a simple gold band so closely packed with kotodama etchings that the metal looks faceted.

It keeps catching the light.

“Yuuri gave it to me at Sochi!” Viktor says happily, and turns to Yuuri.

Who looks at him horrified. “When did I even talk to you?!”

“At the banquet.” He pauses, his smile becoming strange and ill-fitting, “Don’t you remember?”

 

—

 

 _There’s Video,_ Yuuri mentally wails.

 

—

 

 _Magic can tell,_ Hiroko says, _whatever the rest of us pretends._

She said this when she took her and her husband to England and walked up to Hogwarts.

“I hear you are in need of a Divination Professor,” she told the Headmistress.

McGonagall peers down at her and all of her twenty years of age and said, “We didn’t put out any inquiries yet.”

“It’s alright,” Hiroko bustled in, “I Knew you had a need.”

Magic strung the world together, Hiroko knew, and everything was but a chime on it’s string. You can see the future if only you knew how to look because magic vibrates, magic dances, magic _sings._

When Yuuri was born, she Saw how Yuuri heard its music.

She knew it would come easy to her child, easier than breathing even, because for Yuuri breathing was sometimes hard. Hiroko supposes some of that is all the attention and expectation that arrived.

“He’s a prodigy.” They say.

“The next Dumbledore.” They say.

“The next Riddle,” they whisper.

“Be brave, Yuuri,” Hiroko told the child she named Courage. And the Sorting Hat knew also that Gryffindor was needed. But even the House of Gold housed whispers.

A kind muggleborn Prefect took Yuuri under her wing however, and searching for something to take Yuuri’s mind off magic, started talking about what she did on her breaks. And that was how Yuuri was introduced to ice skating. They watched a russian boy skating at a major competition, and the two were immediately enthralled. Yuuri called the performance magical, and yet the sport was completely muggle, something that was so alien and so difficult that it took every ounce of focus. Yuuri seemed to relish the challenge and light up with excitement that she hadn’t seen for far too long.

“Mum, may I go skating on the lake again?”

“Finish your schoolwork first Yuuri.”

And Yuuri did so, took it so far and so fast the whispers increased; graduated early and then asked permission to go to Detroit.

WHY DID YOU LET HIM GO, people yelled. HE HAS SO MUCH PROMISE, HE’S ALREADY CREATING SPELLS, HE’S GOING TO BE _LEGENDARY._

And Hiroko looks at her teacup and thinks of the muggle posters in Yuuri’s room and tells them to _Listen._

BUT _THAT MUGGLE_ IS WASTING YUURI’S TIME.

 _Is he?_ She asks.

 

—

 

The Koldovstoretz Headmaster, having arrived later that evening, points at his school’s Scroll of Admittance. With great Vehemence.

ARE YOU SERIOUS, he roars.

Viktor Nikiforov’s name sits there, crossed off in purple ink.

 

—

 

The Russian Ministry of Magic and the Russian Muggle Government and the Russian Ministry of Higher Magical Learning are having a very heated debate around the Hogwart’s Headmistress’ desk. Past Headmasters are offering Unsolicited Opinions on everything from the Sanctity of Accidental Magic to how Russian children raised in State-Sponsored Sports can’t be expected to Know Any Better to how the Russians are Taking Their Tea. (With JAM, good _heavens)._

Meanwhile someone has left a Hat unattended.

 

 

“...all the way from St. Petersburg? Given all that you must be— HUFFLEPUFF.”

Everyone turns to look.

Nikiforov waves, Sorting Hat at a jaunty angle.

 

—

 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Yuuri says, looking at the ring he placed on Victor’s hand blankly.

His face wants to do something but Victor doesn’t let it, he smiles instead.

They’re sitting down at the Head Table for breakfast. It’d been a long night, over which nothing was decided for certain except that it was altogether Too Much Tea and everyone needed a (bathroom) break. On the far end of the table, the Russian delegation continued having an intense, hushed, argument.

And on their end of the table, Victor looks at the way that Yuuri keeps a very careful space in between them. And can’t even seem to meet his eyes.

“If it was a mistake,” Victor begins lightly, looking down at the ring as well.

 _Be my coach,_ Yuuri had said, slipping the ring onto his finger, _come find me!_

The memory was golden with laughter and champagne and he’d clearly remembered Yuuri’s expression wrong. Or overestimated his intentions.

Victor clears his throat, “I should return this, then, if you really didn’t—”

A warm hand covers his. Then two, warming his palm between them. Hiroko smiles at him over the cradle of her grip.

“Magic can tell. If you weren’t meant to have this ring, you would not have found your way here.”

“He was drunk,” Victor protests.

And Hiroko laughs, “Why did you think our ancestor made a ring in the first place? The forgetfulness with drink is a family trait.” Her eyes twinkle at him, “And even though the details are forgotten, none of the line ever truly forgot themselves.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri says awkwardly, shaking his head at his mother, with determination in his eyes, “If you want to leave, I won’t keep you here.”

He hums, and thinks of all that he’s learned that day. Victor had taken in the castle with wide eyes, true, but he’d kept his ears open. He overhead the painting’s whispers, the way the Professors had looked at Yuuri, the way the various Russian Magical Representatives had seemed to all recognize Yuuri, the way that the children at the tables below them are keeping their eyes on _their_ end of the table (rather than the increasingly loud argument between the Ministries), and specifically at the man at Victor’s side.

Yuuri is respected here, Victor recognizes.

“Would Yuuri be qualified to tutor someone in magic?” Victor asks Hiroko.

The Ravenclaw students sitting nearest to the Head Table simultaneously spit out their drinks.

Victor blinks down at them. They blink up at him, horrified. And look to Yuuri.

Yuuri seems to be trying to slide under the table.

Hiroko’s mouth is wiggling in that way that a person’s mouth moves when it’s trying to bite down on laughter.

“That’s a yes?”

She nods rapidly.

“You asked me to be your coach,” Victor says to Yuuri then, “When you put this ring on my finger.”

Yuuri turns red, and starts stammering.

“Let’s talk payment.” Victor shoves his chair back with an unholy screech and stands up. And the entire Great Hall goes quiet. The Russian delegation pop up their heads.

He reaches out with an open palm, “Yuuri! PLEASE BE MY MAGIC TUTOR.”

Victor winks.

 

—

 

WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS, ASKING YUURI KATSUKI TO BE HIS _TUTOR._

THE _GALL_ OF HIM.

(he’s a _hufflepuff_ you say? You sure he’s not a gryffindor?)

 

—

 

And the thing is Victor Nikiforov knows choreography and how to move and how to time things, he knows languages and how to learn. Charms are, for the most part, easy. Potions, not too bad with a bit of care. Care of Magical Creatures, he owns a poodle, gosh, all it takes is a bit of love and respect.

He zips through the curriculum as fast as Yuuri could throw at him and then drags Yuuri out to the lake to skate.

But they hit a snag on both accounts.

 

—

 

“Yuuri, have you thought about your freeskate?”

“Let’s, ah, let’s work on magic today.”

 

—

 

Victor says the words correctly, and his wandwork is perfect, but all that comes out is a thin silvery dribble.

Vicchan sniffs at it, and sneezes.

“A happy memory,” Yuuri encourages, and demonstrates. His Patronus is a cloud of sparking lilac lights that flutter around as if sentient. Victor guesses fireflies, the essence of illumination and passion and magic. It suits Yuuri.

“Right!” Victor chirrups and tries again.

They make no progress.

 

—

 

Mealtimes have been stilted for a couple days now. There’s been no ruckus in the library, no explosions down in the lab, and no ice on the lake.

Hiroko peers at the children and frowns. _Well, that won’t do._

“You’ve been going through the syllabus quickly, but let me cover Divinations! You both should join me for tea this afternoon.” She doesn’t make it a question and speaks over their protests. “It’d be no trouble!”

 

—

 

“Yuuri,” Hiroko says as they’re all sat down to tea. She’s eyeing her child and smiles as gently as she could, “I know it’s been five years, but you must be tired. I’m sure you didn’t have a chance to let go among the muggles.”

“Ah?” Yuuri eyes Viktor. It’s wary in a way that indicates Yuuri knows exactly what she’s referring to, but her child is still keeps tight control over the magic.

It makes her sad that the courting pair is still so distant with each other, that her Yuuri is still keeping so much inside. The Courtship ring on Viktor’s finger is a promise, but sometimes in their family history that potential stayed only that, and the ring was returned without a vow to take its place. She does not reveal that history to Viktor; his face looked awful enough when he’d offered back the ring. The sort of peaceful and pretty thing that morticians spell onto the face of someone already dead.

Yuuri looks to her and she hands them all a cup, small enough to land easily in a palm, large enough to hold a gulp.

“Swirl it,” she instructs, “and float a question to the leaves. Drink it up when they’re flying and then flip it,” she matches action to words, upending the cup on her saucer.

They mimic her after a moment.

When she looks at her cup it’s full of Crescent Moons for introspection and empathy, Crosses for caution, and a cluster of leaves that reminds her of nothing less than Lilacs. Acceptance.

She points out the lilacs because they say everything and nothing, heeding the notes of caution to not say much about needing the rest. She reads out the signs in Yuuri’s cup, Connected Arches for change blocked by a myriad of Knots, heading towards a Circle with a speck inside. The Sun.

“New beginnings,” Yuuri murmurs. “I remember when you would go over these in the afternoon with me, Mum.” Looks at Viktor, then flicks eyes back to the cup.

Viktor tilts his head in question.

“So that would make it: New beginings due to change, but it’s blocked by stress.” Yuuri says and Yuuri’s lip is bitten so hard she fears it’d bleed.

The cup is set down with a determined click, hands trembling.

Hiroko meets her Yuuri’s eyes. And when Yuuri sighs, his shoulders fall and his face softens and his hips bloom until his becomes _hers._ _Her_ shoulders, _her_ face, _her_ hips.

“Which Yuuri is it today?” She asks her child.

“Yuri, for lily,” her daughter replies, not looking away from her gaze as if afraid to look anywhere else.

“Have you had a chance to be ‘Lily’ at all, for five years?” Hiroko asks gently.

Yuri shakes her head.

“Take what time you need then. You know we understand.” She smiles, and Yuri nods and closes her eyes. Hiroko takes the chance to finally look over to check Viktor’s reaction, because he’d been very silent and very still the moment the cup was set down.

 _Oh,_ Hiroko thought.

She slides forward in her chair and reaches out to touch a knee. Viktor’s tactile, she’s learned these past weeks.

“Vicchan,” she says, very very gently.

Yuri’s eyes snap open at her voice, and looks.

Her voice catches.

“Viktor…” Yuri leans over, “you’re crying.”

 

—

 

Russia, for all that it is an amazing country, is very strict in several ways. Victor knows that he’s allowed to push more boundaries than he would otherwise because he Performs for Russia, and brings her gold. He forges a path for himself because of his excellence. He’s allowed his eccentricities, because of the ice.

 _I do this for the judges,_ he would say.

_I do this to surprise people._

_I do this for myself._

One of these is more true than the others.

The moment Victor steps off the ice he must represent his country, so he’s wrapped up in team jackets and expensive suits and bulky trenchcoats and every sort of ambiguity is wiped away in favor of the role he must play. It got more true the older he became, the more puberty hit, the more his height and his shoulders filled out. The long hair stopped bringing the right sort of surprise somewhere along the way, so he’d left it behind in a hotel sink.

(He is dreading retirement for more than one reason.)

At some point over the years his breathing got more and more shallow and it wasn’t until the moment that he sat, in that Divination classroom, cold tea in his had, wetness on his face, that he realized he hadn’t been breathing at all.

Victor looks down at his hand numbly when a drip falls on it and can only think, _Why._

_Why am I crying._

It doesn’t make sense. He looks at the girl who is Yuri-that-means-lily, who just a moment ago was Yuuri-who-was-male and. Victor’s breath is like a shattered thing in his chest.

“Viktor?” Yuri asks.

And he shakes his head even as Hiroko chides her. And he hadn’t even known this was an _option._ Not for him. This was the trade he’d made, to get out of his small town, to be sponsored by his country, fame and spotlight and the weight of being a National Treasure. He sold his soul to win, gave Russia his body, his face, his image. He hadn’t ever known that he could _want._ That he was allowed to, except for this one small thing that he’d always insisted on.

 _“Victor.”_ He says instead, it’s a very miniscule difference in intonation, in _intent,_ but as Hiroko had said these past couple weeks, _Magic can tell._ “Not the _name._ Not Viktor, not Viktoria, just...a noun. A person.”

A champion, a winner, a—

“Victor,” Yuri agrees, calling him and describing him and Magic Answers like the universe clicking into place and Victor

 

_breathes_

_“Yes.”_

His knee is being patted. “Thank you for telling us, Vicchan,” Hiroko says.

The relief falls across him all at once, a weight he didn’t even know he’d be carrying, tipped away.

And then Victor looks at Yuri, feeling feverish, “What you just did. _Changing_ like that. Can you teach it to me?”

“Being a metamorphmagus? Some of it people think is just passed down family lines,” Yuri hums, “But it has appeared spontaneously before too, for no apparent reason.”

Victor tries to beg with his eyes alone.

“Victor,” Yuri says, shaking her head at him amused, “You’ve somehow crossed out your own name in the birth records. If anyone can do it, you can.”

 

—

 

“Victor?” Yuuri asks, (a day where they are Yuuri, not the Yuuri for Courage, but the Yuuri for Yuuri-Kinsai, the application of gold leaf on porcelain) “What do you want me to refer to you by?”

Victor makes a questioning sound as they watch birds wheel over the lake.

“Which pronouns would you like me to use?”

“Which do you _want_ me to be?” Victor returns playfully. And then Victor Shifts. “Would you like me to be as I was when I was 16 winning Junior Worlds?” His hair unfurls to it’s prior length and he shrinks in height and size to before he’d hit his growth. “I could be a girl your age, maybe a ballerina,” Victor laughs and becomes so, hips becoming wider and feminine but still a dancer’s build, “Though you’d out-dance me.”

Yuuri edges backwards and that’s not what Victor wants at all.

“Not a ballerina? A different style? Salsa perhaps? Back to that Paso Doble?” And Victor makes his figure lush, breasts heavy, small waisted, luxurious hips, a woman that would look wonderful dipped.

Yuuri’s shaking their head.

“Then a Russian Prince?” Victor presses, and flows into the form and costume that he’d won at Sochi with, “Is that what you—”

“No!” Yuuri yells, and gestures at him to stop, “No, just be yourself. What _you_ want to be, instead of what you think I want. I want to see the Victor that Victor wants.”

Victor’s surprised. Quietly awed. A little upset at himself that _that_ sounds like the hardest thing anyone’s yet asked him to do.

“But how,” Yuuri's eyes search his, “how do I meet you halfway? Would you like me to use ‘they’?”

And Victor realizes that Yuuri’s just trying to help, but they can only help if Victor _lets them._

He thinks for a moment, thumb spinning the ring on his finger round and round, and looks out at the lake. “I grew up speaking Russian and English. I don’t think I can separate ‘they’ from being plural.”

That felt like the words were torn from him. Like he’d pushed himself off the ice that very first jump and didn’t quite know if he’d be able to catch himself. The afternoon is growing long and the birds have settled.

“And you’re Singular.” Yuuri nods, and then a surprised laugh comes out of them.

Victor catches their eyes and then recognizes the pun and lights up. Smiles haughtily and runs his fingers through his hair, “Of _course_ I’m _singular,_ I’m _Victor Nikiforov.”_

And then he breaks character and laughs and Yuuri laughs too, the sound hitting the lake like sun on gold.

 

—

 

Mari is sitting on the edge of her desk, her Transfiguration students having left for the day. Her hair is pale blue today, though she’d shifted the number of piercings sometime around lunch. Last month she’d been feeling male and more like tattoos than piercings, he’d also cycled through hair textures a bit until he had settled on something halfway fluffy.

“Yeah, it’s easy to lose yourself,” she mused. “But maybe no more or less than someone who can’t change like we do. It’s just easier to see.”

“How did you decide? You seem to keep going back to certain features.” Victor asks because he’s wondering, with the ease that he’d learned this new magic, how much of his face was his own. How much of it was a mask he’d made, with Accidental Magic, without knowing? What did he actually look like, and was he worth looking at? Did it matter?

Mari seemed to have settled on features that, while pretty, held none of the unconscious grace that Yuuri’s sometimes had. Victor wonders at her choice but she just desultorily flicked ash in his direction.

“My father’s eyes,” she points, “My mother’s cheeks. I wear them and their love with pride. They are what I know, and their features make me happy.”

She tsks and heads for the doorway, smacking him across the shoulder. “Be the person that makes you happy, Victor, that’s the only way I know to wrap my head around this.”

 

—

 

 _“Expectro Patronum,”_ Victor whispers, as he watches Yuuri run through his free skate before they must rush off to make Victor’s appointment.

He’s unsurprised to see a silvery poodle leap out, smaller than full-sized, larger than a toy poodle. It circled Makkachin and Vicchan, and Victor tracks them only for a moment from the corner of his eye before he goes back to watching Yuuri.

But Yuuri’s watching them back, speeding by in his spread eagle, and then as he goes into his Ina Bauer his fingers flick and Yuuri’s Patronus flows out behind him in lilac sparkles.

They speed over to the poodles and dance around them, but one peels away.

It hovers in front of Victor’s face until Victor holds out a palm.

The tiny lilac fairy sits in it. And laughs at him.

 _Oh,_ Victor thinks.

 

—

 

“I’m going to be _magical,_ Yuuri,” Viktor says, hugging Yuuri before he heads over to test for his OWLs in front of a special board called in session.

“I love magic,” Yuuri replies. “I won’t take my eyes off you.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor originally wore the Eros costume when he won Junior Worlds with a skate to The Lilac Fairy.
> 
> Yūri-kinsai (釉裏金彩?) is a gold leaf-application technique used in Japanese pottery and porcelain. It forms a transparent overglaze on gilded porcelain  
> Yuri (Japanese: 百合 / ゆり / ユリ) is a traditional Japanese feminine name meaning "lily".  
> Yuuri 勇利 (as seen in the show) means courage and is more distinctly masculine
> 
> Not all genderfluid like to use 'they'. English is versatile, but everybody has preferences. I wish that English has a non-gendered third person like 'ta' in Chinese, but no such luck. Incidentally, a non-native English speaker who grew up speaking Chinese will probably mess up using he/she a _lot_ because the gendered difference doesn't exist in that language. Source: Am of Chinese descent and know lots of ESL of Chinese descent.
> 
> I figure metamorphmagus in this verse works a little like hypermobility in that there’s more than one ‘resting position’ that your limbs can fall into and if you’re not careful you’re kinda ow ow ow and wondering wtf you did to yourself and ‘WHY DID I SIT LIKE THAT now my hips are misaligned’. Or basically, there’s more than one possible ‘resting face’ or ‘base position’ and if Accidental Magic happens when you’re really young, how do you know what your actual face looks like?
> 
> Mari's features have more fidelity.  
> Yuuri's features are how his parents look to *him*, in the same way that Miazaki's water look the way water 'feels'.
> 
> This... took a sideways trip into suddenly being kinda serious and kinda fic. Which is why it came out so much later than the rest of the chapters. But sometimes you just gotta tell that story.


	8. All's Well That Ends Well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY IMMENSE LOVE TO MOONBELOWSEA for all of this fic. It literally would not have happened otherwise and without her continued support throughout.

So let’s set the scene.

It’s 6th year, and Dumbledore has an agent running around not only with no political ties to him (and can track people by Name because he’s a fucking owl) but who also for all intents and purposes _does not exist._ There are neither magical nor muggle birth records, no schooling licenses, no property owned by a Salchow Katsuki-Nikiforov. There’s no physical trace that matches that person because of the blood adoption potion, no available image because the potion wiped the Black genes from his system, and no way to track the family name via lineage tracers _because the family doesn’t exist._ Yet.

(Big Brother doesn’t even know to _look_ for Salchow, let alone be able to watch him.)

It’s 6th year, and Voldemort has only three horcrux left. He doesn’t know who is destroying them, all efforts made to track down the perpetrator have come up blank. No one has even able to catch a glimpse of who it is, as if the person is somehow able to dodge them.

( _It’s nice,_ Salchow thinks, _that Yuuri’s able to give him all these Death Eater names._ )

(Had Salchow been muggleborn he’d recognize that he’s essentially playing a sudden death game of Frogger; but that’s neither here nor there.)

A LOT of Death Eaters know the taste of Cruciatus. Maybe a quarter or more have broken ranks to escape Britain, or to disown themselves from their families to get their loved ones out of the country with their liquidated holdings.

The nature of Voldemort’s anxiety is that if you seem at all confident it is an Affront To His Sensibilities and he will _personally_ check your mind to make sure you are Properly Respectully _Terrified As Fuck._

 _It’s a good management style,_ Voldemort thinks. _Heightens productivity._

One or two Death Eaters, insomuch as they could, pass messages to Certain People in the Auror department. They mainly boil down to, _LOOKING FOR A NEW JOB HERE ARE MY REFERRALS._

(These referrals may or may not include details on When Voldemort Will Attack Next. Voldemort doesn’t understand why he’s losing. _Why are the people around him so INCOMPETENT)_

It’s 6th year, Samhain, and Voldemort, feeling cornered, decides that Samhain is auspicious enough. From all reports, Dumbledore has departed due to the cursed drink covering Slytherin’s Locket. He has no need to wait for 7th year, Spring Equinox.

IT’S GO TIME.

 

—

 

Sirius managed to catch up to Harry in the Forest in the lull between fighting. He sees Harry talking to his parents, to Lupin, and just barely remembered to put an illusion on his own face for Harry to recognize him.

“Harry!” he shouts.

Harry turns to him and barely reacts, “Sirius.” The boy sighs, “I didn’t want you to die, any of you. I’m sorry—”

“Harry, I’m not dead,” Sirius protested.

Harry just nods, “It’s like I can still hear your voice.”

Sirius sputters.

“We’re always a part of you, son.” James said. “Invisible to anyone else.”

“But I’m _not dead!”_

Harry nods at him kindly, “I guess it didn’t hurt then? Dying?”

“No?” Sirius said, confused. “Because I’m not—!”

But Harry has already walked off.

“I’M RIGHT HERE!”

 

—

 

In Harry’s defense, Sirius was fucking LUMINOUS in the moonlight. His robes were white and diamond-encrusted and full-on Agape and Bling, as if the Archangel Michael and David Bowie had a love-child and then baptized him in Morgan Le Fey’s tears.

 

—

 

Sirius would have followed but Dumbledore catches at his arm and shakes his head. “Salchow, you need to help with evacuations, I’ll take it from here.”

Sirius left after one last look, and did not see Dumbledore watch Harry from a distance… and then pick up a ring from the forest floor.

 

—

 

“Tell me one last thing,” asks Harry, at King’s Cross, Dumbledore’s visage bright and then brighter, “Is this real? Or has this all been happening inside my head?”

“Both! Both is good!” Dumbledore says, downing a candy, “It’s in your head but it’s still real.” He peers intently at the rails. Chucks a lemon drop at the third one and it fizzles with a spark of light. “Maybe even more real!”

 _What,_ Harry’s about to ask, but then Dumbledore pops a lemon drop in his opened mouth.

Harry swallows it out of sheer surprise.

 

—

 

When Voldemort carries ‘dead’ Harry back to Hogwarts and yells at everybody to submit, he was quite nonplussed to discover that the universal response to it seems to be HELL THE FUCK NO.

Three Hogwarts houses rise up in defiance.

McGonagall rallies the professors.

Neville Longbottom tries to strangle him _with his bare hands._

Voldemort Calls for his Death Eaters as he makes a strategic retreat, and they arrive, some of them taking an arbitrary ‘high ground’ by floating up with help of runes, attacking from above even if they were wobbly.

They’re met by the one lone Gryffindor who could provide aerial support, and Harry has just enough time to watch Neville take Nagini before he dashes after Voldemort. Hogwarts was losing to the Death Eaters but if Harry is quick enough to take down Voldemort then maybe it will be enough.

(He is not wrong but not for the reason he thinks. Because the moment that Viktor starts being overwhelmed by the Death Eaters is when Yuuri decides that he’s had enough of being a spy and activates his Fail Safe.

 _There is an art,_ Douglas Adam says, _or rather, a knack to flying. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss._

 

The Death Eaters didn’t miss. They make very gooey marks. The ones who didn’t end up making very gooey marks Yuuri makes sure to hex from behind.

You don’t have to be very good at dueling if someone’s already on the ground. Besides, everyone else had their hands full with the Death Eater ground troops.)

 

—

 

When Harry finally defeats Voldemort, everyone rushes him and it becomes an overwhelming blast of sights and sounds and he lets himself be carried with the crowd outside.

And it’s suddenly Quieter.

Or well, not exactly quiet because there’s still happy chatter and yelling but because they weren’t in the Great Hall, nothing echoes, and there’s far more room for everyone to spread out and there’s huge tables on the lawn in front the of the main doors underneath big white tents and flowers everywhere and streamers up and.

_What._

_Am I dreaming?_

“No no not that table! He’s with the main wedding party, at the head table up there!”

Harry finds himself shuffled forward and sits down where indicated. Blinks. Everyone is dust-covered and bloody. Everything else is very bright and shiny.

Molly Weasley is to his right, sawing at a gigantic steak as she recounts taking down Bellatrix with great relish and at great volume. Ginny is chiming in with extra details, particularly gorey, grinning bigger and bigger as she watches Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape, and Remus Lupin eye her mother with Increasing Unease. Everyone looks battle weary and ruffled.

_Snape??? Remus????!? But aren’t they dead? Is EVERYONE dead?_

The tablecloths are pristine and white. Gentle angelic music float through the tents. The centerpieces are uniquely sublime.

_Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?_

The only person who looks vaguely clean is the man sitting next to Harry, wearing blindingly white robes.

_Wait._

He recognizes that Bling.

“Why are you wearing Sirius’ clothes?” Harry manages.

Conversation to his left stops. Which stops the conversation to his right, and spreads to the entire table. When Harry looks over, That Slytherin and The Gryffindor Who Prevented Harry From Saving Sirius look over at him warily.

“Salchow, why is Harry Potter at our table?”

And the man next to him replies, “He’s my godson, why wouldn’t he?”

“ARE YOU _SIRIUS?!”_ Everyone shouts, for different reasons.

 

—

 

At the shout, everyone in the tents or even vaguely nearby casts an eavesdropping spell or uses an artifact.

 

—

 

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE A GODPARENT,” Yuuri yells.

“YOU’RE TOO _YOUNG_ TO BE A GODPARENT SALCHOW,” Viktor adds.

 _“WE’RE_ TOO YOUNG TO BE GRANDPARENTS,” Yuuri says to Viktor.

“Godgrandparents?” Viktor suggests.

“Grandgodparents?”

They look at each other. A Russian lady is pinching the top of her nose.

“Um,” Harry says. “I’m pretty sure you’re both younger than me.”

 _“Details,”_ Viktor says lightly, waving it off. Light catches on the ring and it sparkles so obviously that everyone takes a moment to think: _Lensflare._

So even _Harry_ couldn’t help but stare at his hand.

There’s a ring on it.

“When did you get married?!”

Everyone looks at each other.

“Harry,” Hermione says delicately, _“We’re at a wedding banquet.”_

 

—

 

In the ensuing storytime, this is what Harry learns: When he’d left to chase Voldemort the tide started turning even if the casualties were high on both sides.

Before Yuuri knew it, Dumbledore pulled him aside—

 

—

 

“WAIT, I THOUGHT YOU DIED,” Harry shouts at the Headmaster. “THE CURSE ON THE GOBLET WITH REGULUS’ LOCKET—”

Dumbledore holds up a lemon drop, he turns it sightly so that it catches the light and the insides look fractured.

Or Etched.

“Clever use of runes! Simply Outstanding! Intertwined _LIF, AST,_ and _ISA._ A threefold method to escape death caused by ingesting, say, poison or spells or… well, fairly anything! Far more comprehensive than a bezoar, with some intriguing, ah, Loopholes, shall we say?”

“Loopholes?”

“It anchors you to Life and Love.” Dumbledore winks.

“How… how did you meet me at King’s Cross then?”

“You dropped this, Harry,” and Dumbledore returns to him the Peverell Ring, “you should guard that more carefully you know, though it was probably good that you didn’t.”

“So you,” Harry looks around at the tables, where those he thought dead sit, hale and hearty and _alive_ , “You brought everyone back!”

“Oh not me,” Dumbledore replies, “Not any _one_ person can, really.”

 

—

 

“You left my lemon drop in the Space Between?” Yuuri asks blankly, when Dumbledore pulled him aside.

Dumbledore nods, “This is the Sixth Consecutive year Voldemort has attempted to sacrifice Harry, Seventh overall if you count when he was but a babe.”

“Six for Journeys and Seven for Power, so the energy for a ritual is primed,” Yuuri murmurs, “And with it being Samhain, where the veil between worlds are already thin…”

“We can bring back our recently lost.” Dumbledore says. “If we have a strong enough catalyst.”

Yuuri blinks, then grows Determined, and starts pulling Dumbledore back to the battlefield.

“SALCHOW KATSUKI-NIKIFOROV,” Yuuri yells, “I’m marrying Viktor. You have 15 minutes to get to the field if you want to attend. I would like you there.”

 

—

 

Somewhere in the dungeons Sirius comes to a sudden halt and curses.

He turns to the Slytherins and points down the hall, “Keep going down the hall and turn a right at the footless armor. It’ll lead you out to beyond Hogwart’s gates.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Phichit demands. His housemates yell out agreement.

He shakes his head. “Yuuri and Viktor are getting married.”

“We know?”

“I mean, RIGHT NOW.”

“WHAT.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S HAPPENING NOW?! I’M NOT READY.”

“MY _HAIR_ IS NOT READY.”

“AND _MY_ ROBES ARE STILL BEING TAILORED BUT WE ARE NOT MISSING THE  _WEDDING OF THE CENTURY.”_

“We are going,” Phichit says to him, in the specific way that says he will _nut you_ with a melon scoop if you disagree.

“A-Alright then.” Sirius rears back, “Remember our lessons though, and stay alive.”

“Right!”

Luckily Salchow is an Owl, and knows the fastest way to get to anyone he can Name.

They get there with five minutes to spare.

 

—

 

Viktor pulls out his locket and opens it to reveal a twin mirror.

“Mother! We’re getting Married!”

“Viktor, for the last time, we KNOW, you talk about it every day, you don’t ne—”

“I mean right now.”

“VIKTOR NIKIFOROV JUST YOU WAIT ONE MINUTE—!”

“We’ll give you five!”

_“VIKTOR!”_

 

—

 

Dumbledore has had the honor of officiating at many wedding ceremonies throughout the years, but never had one taken place in the midst of battle. _How Refreshing!_

He fires off a jinx and calls out the beginning of the ceremony merrily, “I invite everyone to enter the Ceremonial Space!” They’re circled by Slytherins three deep with the littlest ones in the center. They all took turns casting protego, nearly overlapping like a dome. Russians are scattered amongst them, supporting with spells and following up with hexes once they could see who was being hexed by their side.

Dumbledore calls for the symbols of their union to be presented.

Viktor pulls out the golden rings he’d charmed.

“Oh,” Yuuri breathes, “So that’s what you ended up doing with it.” The rings had their hair bound together in a multi-strand braid, protected underneath crystal.

“And this,” Viktor nods, as he pushes up a sleeve to show Yuuri [the smooth dark-colored ribbon](https://www.partyparlour.ie/image/cache/catalog/ribbon/satin/dark-brown-satin-tying-ribbon-l-600x315.jpg), woven with charmed hair-thread, placed to mirror the location of its match on Yuuri.

“May Magic and Powers Most Ancient and Most Noble witness this symbol of the union of House Katsuki and House Nikiforov!” Then Dumbledore summons, “I Call on family and friends of Yuuri of House Katsuki to speak on this union!”

Ravijojla reveals another mirror and she says to it, “Speak, they can hear you.”

And Hiroko and Mari and Toshiya talk about Yuuri, how he’s grown and changed over the years, and learning Viktor through Yuuri’s love of him, and then learning Viktor himself through firecalls during the summers.

Then one by one the Slytherins speak up, Nikiforov’s infamous bravery for An Incident Which Never Happened and Katsuki’s ongoing courage despite his fears. Katsuki’s ambition to reach the heights of Nikiforov’s craft and Nikiforov’s unwillingness to settle for anything less than trailblazing. The way Katsuki became family with Slytherin and the way that Nikiforov protected that family like it was his own.

At this point their circles are growing heavy with power and the fights in the field start driftng closer, congregating around them as others notice what’s happening.

“So noted!” Dumbledore calls, and summons again, “I Call on family and friends of Viktor of House Nikiforov to speak on this union!”

And Baba Anastasia spoke of the well-postured child she met at tea that made her grandchild place his feet on the ground, and Ravijojla and Nikolai spoke of their son who came back to them one summer tempered as if struck by some unknown fire, some unknown steel, a hammer on the bell of his soul.

And then one by one the Hogwarts students that joined their battles close to the ceremony spoke up about the detentions Viktor fielded, the aerial dance during the Yule Ball, the Courtship that they witnessed through all its ups and downs.

“So noted!” Dumbledore beams, hair and robes rising from the swirling ambient power. Then, twinkling, says, “I Call on Salchow of House Katsuki-Nikiforov, child of the houses to be joined, to speak on their union.”

And Magic itself wobbles in confusion, and shatters a little at the Impossibility.

And when Salchow speaks, he speaks of something Schrodinger could adore, a family that both Is and Isn’t, of Parents younger than himself, of Existing when he has no right to exist.

“I would be dead without them,” Salchow says.

“So noted!” Dumbledore struggles a moment against the thaumaturgic weight of the ritual. “Will you Vow?”

The rings are exchanged with the traditional words joining two Houses, rarely heard this past century as normally one House is left to join another:

_You cannot possess me for I belong to myself. But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give._

_You cannot command me for I am a free person._

_I pledge to you that it will be your eyes into which I smile every morning._

_I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care._

_I shall be a shield for your back, a sword at your call, as you are sword and shield for mine._

_I shall not slander you, nor you me. Because I honor you as I honor myself._

_Because we are one House. This is my wedding vow to you._

_This is the marriage of equals, may our Houses be joined._

The winds rise.

“SO MOTE IT BE!”

They kiss each other’s ring.

Clasp each other’s arm bands.

The winds _roar._

Yuuri crunches through a lemon drop and draws three runes with his toe. _Algiz_ for Health, _Riado_ for Journey, _Othila_ for Home.

The sky flares white. The world’s colors briefly inverts. There is the sound of a train. Of a Train Station. The scent of burnt candy.

And all across the field, people wake up.

 

—

 

“So that’s when you came back to life Sirius?”

“Ah.”

 

—

 

In the end, Baba Anastasia and Severus Snape had to explain blood adoption potions.

Which is when it finally hits Harry.

'WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE MY GODGRANDPARENTS.”

'Well, Salchow is our dog,” Yuuri says, as if that explains everything.

“He’s the first dog we had together!” Viktor adds. “We were surprised when he turned out to be more human than expected but that doesn’t mean we love Salchow any less!”

“And we don’t love Salchow any less for not letting us know he has a godchild,” Yuuri says.

“Not even if it’s Harry Potter?” Draco sniffs.

 

—

 

And here is the thing, Sirius did not give away any clue that he has any close relations to Harry for Harry’s safety since in Sirius’ mind he was heading into the Den of Snakes. And then it just became an awkward secret that Sirius didn’t know how to reveal especially since Harry latched onto him so quickly and so hard.

Viktor had done a little research into Gryffindor history so he expected that Salchow was maybe family friends, but nothing like _being responsible for someone else’s emotions._

 _What a catastrophe,_ Viktor thinks as Salchow gets into a verbal altercation with Draco Malfoy (a _child_ over a decade his junior) and all but challenges him to a duel.

“Salchow, _no.”_

 

—

 

Draco does not like admitting that Yuuri exists. Because Yuuri is Soft. He’s scared and vulnerable and he _cries,_ and that makes Draco uncomfortable.

It’s like watching someone throw up, and then feeling nauseous yourself.

Yuuri makes Draco’s stomach turn, makes his throat itch, makes his eyes feel weird. How can Katsuki let himself be so. So.

When the Slytherin painting closes behind Katsuki he sometimes leans against it like the walls were the only thing holding him up. Outside of Slytherin’s walls, Katsuki’s face is cool and calm and icy. Collected.

It’s a mask.

All of Slytherin House knows just _how much_ of a mask it is. They sometimes hear him in the bathrooms, after a run-in with Snape or with prowling Gryffindors or after he’s come back from visiting Voldemort.

 _(How very brave,_ they think privately. _How very nauseating. Could I do that? Could I allow myself to be that vulnerable?_ It’s absolutely sickening the idea of crying in front of their House. Absolutely _terrifying.)_

_(He’s all but a mudblood! One wrong step and the Dark Lord will smear him across Great Britain! What do you mean he got himself Marked to keep his family safe?!)_

(How can Draco do anything less than offer up his arm too?)

Watching Katsuki cry makes a person feel worse, as if all of your insides are revealed. But hugging him, oddly, feels as if you were hugging yourself.

If pressed, Draco Malfoy has never hugged that muggleborn.

(Yuuri Katsuki is, technically, not a muggleborn.)

It’s also Neither Here Nor There if Harry Potter hates That Slytherin. Potter clearly has extremely poor taste in Rivals. And also Everything.

Draco Makes This Known.

 

—

 

 _“Salchow._ NO.”

 

—

 

The argument between Sirius and Draco is extremely loud and Harry is exhausted. Sirius is _defending_ him and that just. It’s nice. It’s a relief. To not have to be that person, on defense.

Harry sits down, right there on the grass.

It’s been a long day.

Someone sits down next to him. When Harry looks over, he sees Yuuri’s hazy form.

“So...so I guess you were a spy like Snape then?”

“Yes.” Yuuri hums. Sighs. “Salchow told us a little of your situation. We have more than enough room at Viktor’s parent’s if you’d like to come with us over the holidays? Your godfather will be there.”

“Oh.” Harry says raggedly.

“Um!” Yuuri says, more urgently. “Harry it’s. Are you ok?”

He tries to blink a lot and swallow it down. Doesn’t work.

“YUURI!” Viktor’s increasingly blurry form dashes over. He seems to stare at Harry, and then looks at his husband. He’s shifting his weight awkwardly, hands held up. “Yuuri what happened, why—”

Harry angrily wipes at his face. Tries to breathe.

“I offered him to join us during the holidays, I thought that would—!” Yuuri says. “I don’t know what—! Um.”

Harry’s folded up into still familiar arms. _Sirius,_ he knows. He somehow finds he can catch his breath.

“I really thought you’d be better at this,” the man says. “Given all your,” he gestures, “Everything.”

The Katsuki-Nikiforovs cringe a little and look at each other.

“To be honest, both of them are very self-contained,” Ravijojla says as she walks up, “And get terribly prickly at odd moments.”

She stares Harry down. He scrubs at his face again.

Tsks.

“You’ll need Etiquette Lessons.” She says, “We can’t just let a greatgrandgodchild go running around wild like you’ve been doing.”

“Now wait just a moment!” Molly walks up, “What that _poor child_ needs is love and support, not some other _children_ pretending at trying to take care of him.”

“What _Harry_ needs,” Baba Anastasia says, “Is a safe place to fall apart and the space to find himself again, while someone deals with his PR, legal status, and financial holdings. We can support him without hobbling him, that is, unless you don’t trust our ministry’s Judicial system?”

Harry shoots a questioning look at Yuuri, who whispers back, “ _Baba_ is a legal title. The ‘Hags of Russia’ are supposed to be ruthlessly impartial; something like the Supreme Court, but a lifetime appointment.”

“The vetting process _itself_ takes at least twenty years,” Ravijojla says as she sits down next to them, “At less than a hundred years of age, Nikolai’s mother is the youngest to be inducted in history.”

They all watch as Molly Weasley backs down.

“Hey Salchow, scootch.”

Harry blinks as Ginny pokes Sirius aside and hands him a hankerchief.

Ginny heaves a great sigh, “My mother, sometimes. Am I right?”

Ravijojla tilts her head at the girl.

“Can’t help but overhear though,” Ginny continues, “she really named her son _Nikolai_ Nikiforov?”

“You’re talking about the _Grand Duke_ Nikolai Nikiforov.”

“It’s Ceremonial,” Ginny returns.

“You’re talking about one of _the Deathless.”_

“And Harry is _the Boy Who Lived,_ join the club. We made buttons, Dumbledore’s Army, want one?”

Harry can’t help but watch Ginny, starry-eyed.

“We’re going to have to include her in the etiquette lessons!” Viktor says to his mother, confusingly.

It’s at that point that Harry gives up and just goes along for the ride, figuring at least Sirius will let him know if he’s missing something.

 

—

 

In the end, Viktor and Yuuri both graduate with their year. Yuuri had to catch up on everything he’d let slip because of Spy Duties and making a fuckton of runes, and Viktor just took all the extra OWLs he could get his hands on, and spent the rest of the time with family.

Viktor spent the year he’d had to spend apart from Yuuri dancing out his Grief and Agony. It was Very Expressive. All the recordings sold out. Tears were shed. Little Georgi’s were Inspired. Five new artifacts were created and patented that involved communicating over long distances, because Salchow was getting run a little ragged, and besides, was busy dealing with Harry’s paperwork.

When Yuuri graduated, they immediately adopted five dogs, different breeds, one after the other. But Yuuri refused to be a stay-at-home dog parent, so he’d offered his services to Japan’s Ministry of Magic who’s requested his working with their R&D department. He sometimes hosts Advanced Runic Theory seminars for Mahoutokoro and other wizarding schools of magic. He sometimes Dances with Viktor.

Viktor ends up being dragged all over the place by this mother, learning everything he needs to know about their holdings. He sometimes escapes her by diving into the pits of the Deathless’ Pit of Cursed And Otherwise Bizarre Items, and de-Charms or re-Charms things until they’re functional or at least less dangerous.

At some point in their early twenties Yuuri and Viktor realize that they should try to have sex, maybe? Since they’re married. It’s a thing that married couples do apparently? It’d just never came up before. So they try it out for a bit, a couple different ways.

Then they blink and shrug and go back to what they were doing before.

Salchow ends up getting a little more mature as he really digs into the role of being Harry’s godparent. THE PAPERWORK IS INTENSE OKAY. And also Harry. Harry’s really Intense too. And there’s good days and bad days and nightmares-for-all days, but they all get by. Salchow has lots of support from his parents and his parents’ parents and his parents’ super scary grandparent who scares the pants off of most of Great Britain by dint of being An Old Hag Who Don’t Give A Cuss. Professionally.

Harry is angry, for a good long time until he realizes it’s safe to be sad, and then he’s sad for a while too. But Sirius’ new family doesn’t seem to mind that he’s angry and encourages him to show his love by fighting them.

 _Challenge us to be better,_ Yuuri says to him.

 _We won’t hate you if you argue, you know,_ Viktor cheers. _I think I made my mother burst a blood vessel in her eye eight separate times before I turned ten._

 _IT WAS NINE,_ his mother yells.

 _You need to meet Yakov,_ Viktor continues. _I think everything will make much more sense once you meet him, he’s great!_

Yakov is… very loud. Harry got into a shouting match with him at one point over the usefulness of Expelliarmus.

It was very satisfying.

At some point Harry realizes that he didn’t need to yell anymore. He sits down to tea that afternoon and asks Yuuri and Baba Anastasia how they could even still invite him after all that.

 _You’re family,_ they reply.

 _Oh._ Harry thinks.

And Harry was rescued from having to respond by being literally dogpiled by Yuuri and Viktor’s brood.

 

—

 

“—so it was only later that we learned Harry somehow missed _our entire courtship!”_ Viktor smiles, still holding up his champagne glass, speaking to the Reception.

“To be fair, he was Saving The World,” Yuuri interjected.

“He wasn’t while Ginny filled his room with flowers.”

“I thought the greenhouses broke down!”

“Or when she got him box seats at the Holyhead Harpies first home game.”

“All our families were there!”

“She brought the entire team over to give you autographs!”

“I thought… since, y’know, people are weird about my being the Boy Who Lived.”

“The new custom broom and gloves?”

“Sirius gave me a broom for my first birthday gift!”

“The winning snitch for the Quidditch World Series?”

“It was CHRISTMAS.”

“The personalized two way mirror!”

“So we can… keep in contact?”

“Her _scarf.”_

“Um.”

_“With her perfume on it.”_

“I asked her out first!”

“We were there, Harry, she told you flat out there was a Warbeck concert in a week, and she was free that night, and _she got the tickets already._ The only thing you did was say, ‘Do you want to go together, like, a date.’ “

Most of the wedding banquet is crying with laughter at this point.

“I proposed!” Harry protests

Ginny pats his hand, “It was Very Romantic Harry.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Harry flushes, pleased. He’d done it in mid-air, right after the whistle blew when the Harpies won their season finals. In front of the entire stadium and their families and _everyone._

Yuuri helped him plan it.

 

(At this point they have 29 dogs, but who’s counting.)

 

(Later that night when they were all Fairly Drunk, Harry apologies repeatedly for being an Awful Teenager who kinda wished their grandgodparents Fucked Off And Died. Arthur Weasley assures him, repeatedly, that’s It’s A Stage All Teenagers Go Through and Don’t Worry About It Son We Love You Anyways but also Wait Until You Have Kids You’ll See.)

 

—

 

Draco Malfoy names his son Scorpius Viktor Yuuri Malfoy after the two bravest men he’d ever known... and a star sign.

He guards his son’s middle names _with his life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> moon (in reaction to the last lines): .................................................................... ** _omfg_**  
>  bonehandledknife: I AM A TERRIBLE PERSON
> 
>  
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> EldestMiddle says (and I totally agree): only blaise zabini and the officiator at his son's ceremonial blessing know scorpius viktor yuuri malfoy's full name. blaise was named godparent and knows it from the documents they had to sign despite draco trying to get them drunk beforehand and stood at the crib's other side, staring judgingly across at draco as draco coughs loudly every time the officiator says poor scorpius viktor yuuri malfoy's name. astoria pinches her husband's side the whole time, furious.  
>  
> 
> [Celtic Handfasting Ritual](http://www.celticdruidtemple.com/celtic-wedding-pagan-handfasting.html) used for reference. Also I'm blatantly referencing PotC's wedding sequence in the third movie.
> 
> "[I remember first learning that you can cry from any emotion, that emotions are chemical levels in your brain and your body is constantly trying to maintain equilibrium. so if one emotion sky rockets, that chemical becomes flagged and signals the tear duct to open as an exit to release that emotion packaged neatly within a tear.](http://freewillandphysics.tumblr.com/post/158376228758/teal-deer-witchyroses-artfelt-i-remember)"
> 
>  
> 
> [Brene Brown on the Power of Vulnerability](http://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability?language=en)
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>  
> 
> [On Russian Nobility](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Russian_nobility#Organisation). [What a Grand Duke actually is](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grand_duke) (ie. Below Emperor, King, Archduke. Above Prince, Sovereign Prince, Duke. Or in other words the title an Emperor might give his baby if he wants the baby to outrank a ruling Prince. Also no one will take you seriously if you name your new baby a King. So.)
> 
>  
> 
> If you want to chat I'm available at [bonehandledknife.tumblr.com](bonehandledknife.tumblr.com).
> 
> moonbelowsea is available at [moonbelowsea.tumblr.com](bonehandledknife.tumblr.com).
> 
>  
> 
> My next project (tho really, the project I put on hiatus to get this insanity written) is a time travel AU by the name of [Lunchtime](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10332149). Wherein Viktor is Extra and has no chill.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to make this an actual fic, go wild.


End file.
